“You are not player one.” Grant hisses. “Give me the controller.”

You hold it away from him, fed up with your older brother always having the first slot. Grant doesn’t take kindly to the defiance, shoving you down to the floor and pinning you by the shoulders. The little brother reflex to call for help is no use, the house is empty most of the time since the divorce.

You’re stuck under Grant, his nails digging into your shoulders as he glares down at you. “What’re you gonna do, crybaby?”