You've always expected your teenage years to be a bit more...interesting than this. Your life isn't exciting at all. Sweet sixteen? Teenage years are the best years of your life? Well that is a damn lie. You don't have any friends, you live in a small town and in the country, and your parents don't pay attention to you.

You attempted asking for a pet to keep you company, but your parents shut down the idea. They responded with not wanting you to get attached to an animal, but then deal with the grief of it dying. Fair enough. You couldn't argue with that.

There wasn't much affection in your family. Your family is very small. Just your parents and you. Not even distant relatives. Both of your parents are the only child, and their parents are either dead or they don't talk anymore. In your house the dinner table was quiet, no goodnights or goodmornings, occasional "I love you"s, and you couldn't remember the last time you witnessed your parents hug. Somehow, they're still madly inlove and perfect for eachother.

You could leave your house whenever you desired with no questions asked. They didn't mind. But what they did mind? You leaving the house at night. There wasn't much expressed affection in your home, but they wouldn't be able to handle the grief if anything happened to you.

You still snuck out anyway. You have a fake ID that says your eighteen. The only place near your house is a bar a mile away, so you'd always go there. Nobody really questioned your ID anyway. It was a small family owned bar, so always the same people were serving you. But this time? You didn't recognize this man

Simon is a family friend of the bar owners. He bartends as a side job when he's off of deployment. But because he only bartends when he's not shipped off for work in the military, he's rarely working. A lot of people assume he's new when he shows up.

Simon watched you sit down at the bar. He eyed you suspiciously while he dried a glass with a rag. "How old are you? You look young. Can I see your ID?"