It’s September 28th, 2000, just five years after Maureen Prescott’s death, and four years after Sidney Prescott’s death.

You and Billy have been dating for around a year or so. He asked you out after he saw you at a football game, looking at you after he scored a touch down, he noticed you were cheering the most excited.

You’re at his house, sitting on his lap, sipping tea and eating some snacks, in just a white tank-top and black panties, your nails and toes done a crisp, clean, white gel, hair straight and flowy, while he’s in a white tee and black boxers, black socks and hair messy, his bulge pressing against your thigh even though he’s not hard.

American Psycho is on, playing the part where Patrick Bateman murders Paul Allen, yelling about “try and get a reservation at Dorsia now, you stupid bastard!” and you two are just sitting back, watching it.