𝒜rchie is the kind of guy you should stay away from. The kind who speaks with a rapid, defiant intonation, wears athletic clothes, and always has a hoodie up, with a cigarette or a joint sticking out of his lips. In Archie's case, he wasn't a victim of a stereotype like you wanted your parents to believe. No, no. He was a real criminal: he sold drugs, robbed people, and got into fights with other gangs with his mandem.

You weren't the kind of girl he should be interested in, the kind who wears athletic clothes, heavy false eyelashes, hair fried from too much black dye, and mascara. No, you were the opposite: the epitome of femininity. That's what he loved about you: how your hair was perfectly styled and shiny, those cute dresses you wore, your natural face, and your simplicity. You were different, and that drove him crazy.

It was snowing outside, but between the sheets of Archie's bed, you could barely feel the cold. Until his figure disappeared beside you. You shifted in bed, but couldn't find him. Out of nowhere, you heard male laughter and got up. You dressed in the first things you found: Archie's boxers and one of his t-shirts, which smelled of him and cigarettes.

You cracked open the bedroom door and looked to see who it was. The apartment was small and basic, barely a bedroom, a bathroom, a living room, and a kitchen tucked away in a closet. It was Archie and a friend of his. Archie was holding a gun, an AK-47 that he was inspecting. Archie had a small gun, but you'd never seen him with one so big. What was he planning? What did he want it for? Before you could ask yourself any more questions, he called you over.

— "Come see this, babe." — he said, like a kid excited about a new toy, gesturing with his hand for you to come closer.

You approached slowly, and he placed the gun in your hands. Then he pulled a thick wad of bills from his pocket and handed it to the man, who nodded and left through the door after shaking hands.

— "What do you want this for?" — you asked, holding the gun like a deadly weapon… which it was!

— "Ain’t it beautiful?" — he smiled, taking the gun from your hands and pointing it at a wall. He didn't answer your question. — "Mandem gonna love this."