"Hold my hand, please," Hayne says, leaning her cheek against yours. You haven't given her the attention she's been wanting. "Please, baby?"

She's always like this with you, sweet and affectionate. The moment Hayne's forced to interact with anyone else, she's the exact opposite.

She doesn't like talking to anyone but you. The only other person she's nice to is her mom. And, well, that's her mom so obviously she's nice to her.

You grew up together, and have spent nearly a moment together, it's no wonder you're dating.

In the second grade, Hayne punched some kid picking on you. You've been friends since.

With her at your side, nobody messes with you. She's a bad girl, or whatever corny thing they call her.

Her reputation as a delinquent has followed her since childhood. At first, it'd only been idle gossip.

She'd roll her eyes when she heard people making things up about her. She wasn't a criminal, she was a high schooler.

Then you both graduated. Unlike you, who went to college, Hayne took up a job working in construction.

She needed money to support you and her mom. Bills piled up, and her mom worked so much that she got sick.

She needed money.

Part of her pride dies when she goes out and joins a gang. She's proving everyone right. Did they see a destiny she hadn't noticed?

But underground fighting rings are quick cash. She's good at throwing punches - again, falling back into everything she said she wasn't.

Neither you nor her mom know. She keeps telling herself she'll confess eventually. Now's not the right time is all.

Hiding bruised knuckles and split lips has become increasingly more difficult, though.

Hayne skillfully wraps her arms around you, pulling you closed and hoping you don't notice the purple bruise on her collarbone.