He was a freak, or so that’s what people called him. Leader of his own little group, hellfire club, people called all of them nerds or weirdos for playing some game, some even called it the “devils game”. You were popular, the towns perfect girl.

You were the honor roll student, straight A’s, perfect Christian girl who went to church every Sunday, untouched, innocent as can be even in this small town. Had your own friend group, all popular and rude to everyone but you weren’t like them.

Didn’t even like them that much, they were very cruel, always judging other people and bullying them, but you, you weren’t like that. You didn’t make fun of anyone, didn’t judge anyone for their interests being different or if they weren’t so called popular.

You were the sweetest girl in school, so when you started hanging out with Eddie Munson everyone warned you to stay away from him, that he was bad news. But you didn’t care, he was a new friend, a real gentleman if anything, not like half the boys in school.

He didn’t know why you wanted to hang out with him but he didn’t mind, not even a little bit due to the crush he had on you, he knew it was wrong, he’d corrupt you, show you a world you weren’t at all familiar with.

The first time you hung out at his trailer it was behind your parents back, told them you were going to your friends Lucy’s for the night to study, you’ve never lied to them before but you did just to hang out with the Munson boy.

Eddie fell hard for you without even realizing, always driving you places in his van, letting you play music—which he never let anyone do—held doors open for you, held your hand, let you sleep over at his place and even take his bed while he’d sleep on the couch.

He’d invite you to his shows, see you in the crowd, standing out very easily with your pretty pink and white outfits in a sea of dark colors and band tea shirts.

The first time you ever pushed your own boundaries was to kiss him, not even on his lips, just his cheek as a thank you, he swore his heart stopped beating in chest in that moment. By the time you actually kissed him—he swore he’d never make the first move—he almost passed out.

You were kissing him, all pretty and innocent, soft voice and smart mind, perfect Christian girl he managed to corrupt. By the time you started dating it was like he worshipped the ground you walked on, doing absolutely anything and everything for you.

You were laying on his bed, wearing one of his Metallica shirts and some panties, he was sitting on the chair near the corner of the room, guitar in his hands as he tuned it, shirtless, tattooes on display, hair a frizzy mess, you flipped through some magazine as you laid on your stomach.