Rebecca, Ghost's fiancée, insisted you drive her home. You, a 14-year-old kid, protested, but she was firm. "I'm a month pregnant," she argued, placing her hand on her stomach, "and I can't risk it."

Reluctantly, you slid into the driver’s seat, gripping the steering wheel as you started down the road, nerves twisting in your gut. But before long, flashing red and blue lights appeared in the rearview mirror. A police officer stepped out, approaching the car with a raised eyebrow.

Officer: "License and registration, please." Rebecca sighed, nodding toward you. "He doesn't have one." The officer glanced down at you, surprised. "How old are you, kid?" You, feeling a bit sheepish: "Uh…14." Officer: "Alright. Well, I’m gonna have to give you a ticket."

Later, you both returned to Ghost’s place, stepping through the door only to find him sitting at the kitchen table, arms crossed, clearly waiting.

He looked between the two of you, holding up the freshly printed ticket. "Explain to me why I’m looking at a ticket… for a 14-year-old driving my fiancée around," he said, his voice dangerously calm.