BRUISED BODY, BROKEN SOUL.

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MAGNETS (book one).
°•        CHAPTER TWO        •°

"        I'M NOT AFRAID OF YOU!
I'VE NEVER BEEN
AFRAID OF YOU!       "

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DYLAN HARGROVE WAS TOLD HER ENTIRE LIFE HOW BEAUTIFUL SHE WAS. She grew accustomed to it and stopped flushing every time she heard what gems her eyes were, how her hair was curled to perfection without the use of a tool while being the color of honey, and her facial features, well... Dylan knew her cheekbones were high and looked as if they were carved carefully into a beautiful structure that just completed the looks. She didn't let it get to her head - not as Billy did - but sometimes they were useful. Dylan hates the parts of her that are just like her brother but once she learned how to sway people on her side with the use of charm, she couldn't stop using it. It became her worst habit, a flaw others couldn't see.

That's exactly how Dylan manages to get out of her Chemistry class. She insisted on catching up on the schoolwork she missed while in California in the library. Every sweet, innocent used word that fell off her tongue was accompanied by a strand of her hair twirled with a finger, leaning over his desk with her elbows propped on the wood. One of his students being only seventeen didn't seem to matter much to Mr. Levy. Dylan saw the way she was studied and swallowed the gag that nearly crawled out until she got her way.

Science wasn't a class she struggled with anyway. The second Dylan was out of the lab's classroom and by herself, her act dropped. Her muscles grew tense with every step after she rolled her eyes to the back of her head and actually did gag. It's revolting how men treated a girl, a minor at that, as an object just because she was pretty. Dylan hated the sweet, naive act she had to put on.

She hated it because it reminded her of Billy.

Dylan wants to block his face out of her mind. It's impossible when she carries it with her everywhere she goes, etched forever in her face, staring back whenever she caught a glimpse in a mirror. It didn't seem to matter how hard she tried to fight it off. The Hargrove DNA was like mold, warping Dylan's atoms until she had no choice but to embrace her last name. She wanted to believe she could be different and yet still couldn't find the ability to do so.

The wooden chair creaks as Dylan chooses a singular table. She winces at the sound as it fills the quiet library and swears the librarian is glaring at her behind thin-wire glasses. Dylan tries to ignore the beading eyes on her as she doesn't reach for a textbook in her bag to study, no, (because she doesn't need one - Clara Rhee was right, she is a fucking nerd), but for the tan portfolio in her bag. The very same one she watched fall out of some boy's bag.

Dylan had attempted to feel bad about this for the last twenty-four hours. She hated how her fingers were itching to peel back the cover and reveal to her nosiness what art was inside. She knows it's an invasion of privacy to a total stranger. The worst part is that Dylan knows exactly why she wants to do this.

It's exactly something Billy would do.

She huffs and wishes for a brief moment that she was different because there was always the option to save herself. Dylan knows all it'll take is to shove the book back in her bag and pretend she never grabbed it. She could ask around and find the owner. It'd be the first step that a good person would take.

But Dylan Hargrove wasn't a good person. She's long accepted that.

The first sight that catches Dylan's eyes is the engraved letters inside of the leather cover as she peels it back. It clearly wasn't an expensive purchase. There were a few strips of tape holding the peeling leather together and the name JONATHAN B. wasn't branded carefully, but she guesses it must have been carved with something sharp like a knife by the way it was scrawled. It's kind of special. Dylan smiles and lets her thumb brush across the scars before she averts her eyes to what lies inside.

It's stunning. It's so beautiful that Dylan thinks if she tears her gaze away, the world could possibly stop turning, and she'd go flying into the bookshelves. She's never seen art like this. She's only seen paintings hung on walls with elegant frames and listened to music with a beat that would eventually hurt her eardrums. Dylan thought for the longest time those were the only ways to create something that would catch someone's eye. This took a lot of convincing from her father who thought of the gift as a waste of time. That's why she kept her grades up. It seemed to be the only thing that mattered.

Everything Dylan Hargrove believed for so long was slowly starting to turn to dust. She stares in wonder at the photographs looking back. They're beautiful candids, clearly taken carefully with an expensive pair of lenses. Printed shots of Hawkins were tucked carefully into the plastic pocket pages. Dylan almost fears a smudge of her fingerprint would be a stain that would ruin them forever.

A sense of warmness starts to wash over her. It was sweet, in a sense. It was something normal which was good. Dylan grew up in a house full of Hargroves who didn't accept in... This as a lifestyle for men. They laughed at men like this, ones who saw beautiful moments and captured them to turn them into art, that weren't ashamed of themselves, and didn't embrace the asshole side of them. Granted, Dylan didn't know this Jonathan B but hey, men like Billy or Neil wouldn't be caught dead with a camera in nature.

Nature was supposed to be beautiful. Dylan had seen so many palm trees and ocean waves that she thought she'd seen it all. It wasn't until she got to Hawkins that she saw so much more. Leaves the color of flames that crunch under your boots with a satisfying sound after they crumble, trees with branches that curve to twist and meet each other, even the smell of autumn as it hits you all at once.

But Dylan had also seen mirrors. And although she knew that the part of her that charmed to get her way, that forced everyone to believe she was perfect, was all beautiful - she didn't know that the real girl under the mask was too. However, this Jonathan B does. Or at least Dylan guesses from everything else she's seen.

A picture had made her stop suddenly. Dylan slowly hunches over the desk's edge until she's closer and has to blink a few times to be sure she's seeing right. But it's there, clear, and seemingly the only photo printed in color. Despite the slight blur, Dylan guesses it cost him a pretty penny. It's gonna cost him so much more as her anger starts to spike at a dangerously high level.

It's her.

It was seconds after Dylan stepped out of Billy's car on their first day. Max had already run off on her skateboard and Dylan made the comment about her brother throwing his lit cigarettes wherever he pleased then watched him walk away. Right before she placed the mask over her face. In that split second, Jonathan B had caught a picture of Dylan Hargrove, capturing the real her. The one she hid from everyone.

Dylan smacked the book shut. She doesn't mind the sound this time when the bell drowns it out. Her cheeks start to flush. This time, it isn't with embarrassment. She's rightfully pissed. Who does this guy think he is? She remembered thinking she saw a flash of light that day. She should have thought more about it. But it's not too late for Dylan to set this asshole straight. God, she can't believe she thought he could be a nice guy.

One (of the many) things Dylan was good at was using her head. She stuffs the portfolio back in her bag and swung it over her shoulder. She doesn't shoot any apologetic glance to the librarian this time because she wants the school to know to get the hell out of her way. Dylan marches straight for Clara's locker first, close to where she had first spotted this guy. She's momentarily grateful that her new friend isn't there. She shouldn't see Dylan like this.

She's saving it for that asshole.

He's leaving the classroom Dylan had seen him enter yesterday. Her fists clench at her sides at the sight of the back of his head. He's oblivious to the way that the girl behind him storms ahead and sends a few peers stumbling like a wave to avoid her path. Dylan pities them almost as much as she pities this asshole. They're left behind in the flames behind her steps.

The second he turns his head once he comes to a pit stop at his locker, Dylan knows it's him when their eyes meet. She realized this was the first time seeing his face. He was tall. That's what Dylan noticed first. Handsome, too, with shy features that made him look cute. She would have used her typical teasing greeting if they were in any other scenario, wanted him to fall at her feet like every other male in California once did.

Instead, Dylan strides until she reaches the open space next to him. She says nothing. She doesn't have to. Jonathan B is startled when she delivers a simple shove to his open locker and slams the metal door shut so hard it rattles. He parts his lips to say something, but Dylan hooks her pointed finger into the collar of his shirt and drags him. Jonathan B stumbles to keep up behind her with a few splutters that she ignores as she guides him to a quieter spot, close to a stairwell where not a lot of their peers were gathered.

That's where Dylan draws her hand back and plants both of her palms on his chest. She learned a long time ago how to stand up to men that treated her like an object instead of a human being. The fury practically explodes out of her like an ability as she shoves him so hard he would've fallen onto the stairs if he hadn't grabbed ahold of the railing.

"I found your fucking photography bullshit," Dylan spat so venomously that sparks of flames must've hit him as he flinches. She rips the book out of her bag and thrusts it at him. "Who the fuck do you think you are?!"

He clutches the book to his chest and stares back with wide, brown eyes but says nothing. He can't speak a word. It only infuriates Dylan further. He's going to take a picture of a woman and then say nothing when he's confronted? Coward.

"Whatever you think you know about me, forget it," Dylan rages dangerously low. She swears to God she hears Billy's voice leave her mouth, even believes that her face had twisted into his nasty snarl if the timid stare on Jonathan's face said anything. She jabs a finger into his upper chest. "Fuck you." The same hand curls into a fist as it shakes, the urge to smack shooting up her arm and spreading through her body. It takes almost everything to hold back.

Red starts to creep up Jonathan's neck and spread like roots until the color fills his cheeks under the thumb of the Hargrove girl. Stuttering words start to fall. "I - I didn't... Didn't mean... I just - "

But nothing clear comes out. Nothing the fuming girl before him can make sense of.

Dylan has to forcibly take a step back. If she doesn't, she was going to bruise this boy's pretty face and ruin it. The urge was practically thundering inside of her. She can just barely fight it off. "Stalk me again and you'll choke on your teeth before you start," Dylan threatens and leaves that for him to swallow, words instead of teeth and blood this one time, storming off again.

Dylan knows well before she reaches the door that she has to compose herself into the puppet everyone wants before reaching the blue Camaro where Billy was waiting. With every step follows a deep inhale, exhale, and the flex of her tense fingers that ache with the urge to split skin upon decking something, anything. She slowly starts counting the sound every time her sneakers smacked against the concrete. Dylan realized quickly from a young age how doing so could calm her temper in minutes. But these were stories for another day. Not for a time when she was trying to calm herself instead of getting angrier.

The second Billy's eyes lock with Dylan's, she can feel all of the fury leave her body, drifting into the air instead. It isn't easy to control her temper when it comes to him. But as long as Billy doesn't make a stupid comment or pick a fight, Dylan can block him out. She prays it's one of those days.

It fortunately is. Billy doesn't question her tense shoulders or the small, fake smile that he easily sees through. He's focused intensely on lighting a cigarette instead of what was wrong with his sister. He mumbles grumpily over the stick in his mouth, barely audible, a simple order of, "Get in," as soon as their eyes break contact.

Usually, Dylan makes a fuss when Billy barks a command at her. Sit, stay, behave - like she was a dog. As long as Neil wasn't around to see, the pair would settle it like two siblings often do. But she isn't in the mood, still riding the high of rage she nearly unleashed onto Jonathan. It could wait until they were home. Dylan nods and passes him to crawl into the passenger seat and shut the door behind her.

It isn't long before Dylan sees Max skating slowly through the parking lot. She wasn't keeping count, but Billy sure was, and their stepsister certainly took longer than she did. A few kids skip to move out of the redhead's way. Max eventually comes to a pit stop a few feet away from the vehicle and kicks the skateboard's tail to grab the other end when it flips up. Dylan can see her trying to ignore Billy's intense gaze glued on her as she carries her board the rest of the way to the car.

"You're late again," he fires at her.

Max fumbles to grab the door handle behind Dylan. "Yeah, I had to get catch-up homework," she explains.

"Jesus, I don't care," Billy huffs. He takes one last hit of his cigarette. "You're late again and you're skating home. You hear me?"

Their sister doesn't answer even though they both know he isn't bluffing. It's been done more than once. Dylan hears the car door slam behind her though as she settles into the seat behind her own. Billy is next and doesn't hesitate to blast the radio before he even sets the car into drive. She winces as the screeching start of Wango Tango by Ted Nugent rattles the vehicle's windows and bursts through her eardrums. Although there are a few rock and metal tunes Dylan certainly likes, she's always preferred the mellow melodies that Billy straight-up describes as garbage and refuses to let her play anything remotely quiet in his car.

This is yet another thing that makes Dylan want to punch her fist through the window of his precious Camaro. Billy knows both of his sisters hate his music even when they can block it out, but they hate it much more when he doesn't consider their safety and slams on the gas pedal without easing off it before they're barely buckled. Fall leaves on the roads of Hawkins fly past them as the car speeds well over the limit. At this point, Dylan's afraid he's going to hit a tree or a mailbox (again).

Billy switches the radio's knob until his music is set at a tolerable-ish level. He gives a heavy sigh that catches Dylan's attention when it breaks their silence. "God, this place is such a shithole," he curses.

His words cause Dylan to roll her eyes. Always so optimistic.

"Whatever," she mumbles with her elbow pressed against the door, chin propped in her palm.

"It's not that bad," Max adds after a moment.

Billy scoffs. "No?" He reaches for the console between them and flicks the switch that sends Max's window down. He makes a show of being disgusted, plugging his nose with his free hand, and snottily shouting, "You smell that, Max? That's actually shit! Cow shit."

It's not that Dylan wants to agree with Billy nor does she believe he's right. While the air that hits her doesn't have a... Pleasant smell, per se, it's more so that it's different than what they were used to. It was always sand and saltwater waves that burned their nostrils in California. Dylan missed it much more than she hated Hawkins.

"God, shut up," Dylan snaps. She knows she's bound to really break soon and has a hunch Billy senses it too as she flips the switch that brings Max's window up again.

Max continues to try and hope from behind them. "I don't see any cows," she insists.

"Clearly, you haven't met the high school girls."

The comment practically socks Dylan in the gut. Billy's never been shy to degrade women, his sister included. He makes snide comments every time she leaves to go on a run. He's even pinched her hip after she had a second helping of dinner. Dylan can't help but feel sick every single time. There's no one that can beat her down like Billy Hargrove.

"Don't fucking talk about women like that," Dylan scolds. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

She wants to take a bath and rub her skin raw when Billy only cackles as if Dylan cracked a joke back.

Once his laughter died down Billy shook his head. The smirk was still dancing on his lips, but it was slowly turning into a cold sneer. "So, what, Max - you like it here now?"

"No," Max mumbles in the back. Dylan takes a quick peek over her shoulder to see the girl had crossed her arms over her chest as if she could sink into the seat.

"Then why are you defending it?" Billy demands to know. His knuckles start to turn white from how tightly he was gripping the wheel.

Max's voice grows smaller. "I'm not."

"Sure sounds like it."

Dylan can't bear to hear him beat on Max as he does her. "I mean it, Billy, shut up. Leave her alone."

A horribly familiar glint fills Billy's eyes. "Or what?" He challenges.

Dylan just about reaches to unfasten her seatbelt and allow herself to break until Max stops her. "Dyl, it's okay." She leans forward in her seat. "It's just we're stuck here, so..."

"Hmmm," Billy's quiet hum cuts her off before Max could finish. "You're right. We're stuck here." With the speed he's using, he shouldn't, and yet he still swivels his head to glare at Max. Dylan's hand twitches on her thigh as she fought the urge to grab the wheel as he questions gravely, "And whose fault is that?"

The truth is - it's no one's fault. No one except Neil. But Billy believes what he wants. He can hate their old man as much as he wants, maybe even almost as much as Dylan did, but it was never his fault. It couldn't be. Not when two rebellious daughters like Dylan Hargrove and Max Mayfield existed. So she doesn't expect Billy to admit to that.

However, Max dares to trad over the line Billy made. The single word she utters is sarcastic but still so quiet that the two teens in the front seats nearly missed it. "Yours."

The accusation must catch Billy off guard. His clench on the steering wheel's leather loosens and tightens repeatedly. "What'd you say?" He bids Max to repeat herself, dangerously low, using a tone that sends both budding emotions of panic and wrath through Dylan.

She realizes her mistake quickly and tries to backtrack. "Nothing."

"Did you say it was my fault?" Billy demands.

"No."

"You know whose fault it is."

"No one. It's no one's," Dylan insists. She wants to keep the peace for now, at least. She knows Billy doesn't care where they are, that he's already driving faster than he should, he'll start a brawl anywhere. Even with his sisters.

"Say it."

A beat of silence. And then, again, colder, "Say it."

While Billy makes an ultimatum of only two words, Dylan knows what's coming. She attempts to keep her gaze outside of the window. She wants to believe she isn't there, this wasn't happening, nothing was real, and she's home in California -

"SAY IT!"

Billy's violent scream echoes in Dylan's ear as he whipped toward her with a rage that could've smacked her in the face.

She can't help it when she immediately throws her arms above her to protect herself. It's an instinct, one built from years of the terror, of the abuse she faced -

Dylan's reaction only infuriates the hothead next to her. Billy spat in revulsion at her weak attempt to shield herself before he both slammed on the gas pedal and blares his music once more. He drums his hands onto the car's wheel along with the beat of the tunes and the sound mixed with the speed only makes Dylan want to keep herself protected underneath her arms. But it's Max's quiet gasp that causes her to lower her shield.

Three kids in Halloween costumes are riding their bikes along the road Billy was flying on. They were innocently minding their business, unknowingly on a Hargrove's shit list.

"Billy, slow down," Max pleads.

A sick, twisted grin spreads onto Billy's face. "Oh, these your new hick friends?"

"No! I don't know them!" Max answers in a panic. Her blue eyes are wide and desperate as she peeks in between the two seats. "Dylan, please, make him stop," she begs.

Dylan reacts as quickly as she can. "Billy, that's enough," she tries to match his snarl even though it's no use. Billy's made up his mind.

"I guess she won't care if I hit 'em, then?" He proclaims. "I get bonus points, I get 'em all in one go?"

"They're a bunch of fucking kids, Billy, stop!" Dylan shouts with an angry wave of her hand as she swivels in the seat to face him.

"Billy, stop, it's not funny!" Max exclaims.

Billy's head falls on his shoulder lazily as he shot his sisters a bored glare without even grazing the brake. The engine revs again. Dylan knows what it means. He's not trying to be funny. He's really going to hurt someone at this rate.

"Come on, stop, that's enough!" Dylan nearly screeches. She's given up the sneering of intimidation. It's clearly not working. Max is begging Billy to stop, pleading with Dylan to stop him, and he blocks them both out. She doesn't have another choice.

Dylan lunges and grabs the wheel. She gives it a harsh jerk to the left without considering if there was a tree nearby. The wheels screech at the sudden turn but they, fortunately, slide across the gravel instead of crashing. It was barely just in the nic of time. The kids Billy had been chasing had fallen into piles of leaves when they moved to take cover from the raging vehicle behind them.

"Yeah, that was a close one, huh?!" Billy cackles like a maniac. Max's red hair flew as her head spun, eyes clouded with worry.

Dylan's heart aches between her ribs as it starts to slow. The adrenaline could've made it explode. She wanted to check if those poor kids were alright. She wanted to grab Max's hand even if the girl would push her away, tell her she'd never let Billy do anything to her or anyone else, but none of this would be helpful.

The only action Dylan can do is curse at her brother, punching his shoulder with as much force as she was allowed while he was behind the wheel, bellowing, "You idiot! You are such an asshole! What is wrong with you?!"

He doesn't answer Dylan. He continues believing it was funny up until he parks into the driveway of their home.

Don't get Dylan wrong. She hates being home, being under the same roof as Billy and Neil Hargrove. Loathes it. But it's the one place she barely has to fake being someone she's not. She can embrace it and welcome the horrible feeling as it encloses her. Dylan is basically humming with newfound wrath directed at Billy this time instead of Jonathan. She doesn't strike until Max is safely in her room and can't witness either Hargrove explode.

The front door slams shut when Dylan kicks it. She yanks off her backpack and lets it hit the floor. "What the fuck was that?!" She demands. Her voice is low, dark. She would've scared herself once upon a time ago.

Billy rolls his eyes. He swats at the air like Dylan was an inconvenient fly. "All it was was some fun. Next time, loosen up and laugh."

Dylan's jaw ticks before it could fall open into a gape. "Next time don't try to kill a bunch of kids, dickhead! You scared Max to death - " She furiously jabs Billy's shoulder. "Don't you ever do that to her again!"

"Or what?" Billy challenges again. He knows exactly how to press his sister's buttons, he doesn't care how far it is, and he doesn't hold back. "I bet you can't wait to run to your mommy..." A smug smirk flashes on Dylan. "Oh wait."

It's too bad Dylan knows exactly how to press his buttons too. She learned from the best, after all.

"At least mine wanted me," she spat back.

The only warning Dylan gets is Billy's features dropping into a freshly enraged slate. Dylan thrived off of it until... "At least mine is still alive."

Something horrible and dark snapped inside of Dylan. She swung her arm without thinking twice as soon as the words left his mouth.

She didn't have any time to clench her hand into a fist. The palm of her hand struck Billy's jaw with such force that he topples over and barely catches himself on the handle of a chair while Dylan herself spun on the soles of her shoes. The sound of the hit long echoes afterward. She slowly composes herself as Billy glances up at her, wordless, menacingly.

If it was anyone else, Billy would laugh before the battle. He'd think it was funny and make a point of it because he's convinced there's no one in this world he can't beat. But Dylan isn't anyone else. She's his sister. And she won't ever let a man, her brother most of all, grind her into the dirt beneath his boots.

"Fuck you!" Dylan nearly screams as Billy lunges. She jumps onto her toes to reach his height and hooks an arm over his thick neck. She feels him do the same, one of his muscular arms wrapping tightly around hers.

The Hargrove's fight for dominance. Dylan frantically bucks Billy back and forth as he does the same, their shoes sliding across the once clean kitchen tile. She refuses to let go even when her skin starts to become slick with sweat and blood leaking from Billy's cheek where he was struck with the rings on her fingers. He's a great fighter, strong, but it's Dylan who uses her head. She can endure greater pain than him.

"You're such a fucking witch," Billy hisses and gives a harsh clench to Dylan's throat that momentarily causes her to gasp for air.

"I'm not afraid of you," Dylan snarls. She squeezes her arm until Billy chokes this time. "I've never been afraid of you - !"

Their wrestle comes to a stop when the phone hooked to the wall rings and they hear Max's feet dart across the carpet. The pair freezes. They know what'll happen if Neil finds out they were physical in front of the baby of the Hargrove-Mayfield family.

It pains Dylan to release Billy but she drags her arm back. He does the same, breathless, and still madly scowling. Her lips pucker and she gives one final spit in his direction, the wad of salvia passing her mouth, splattering against the cut skin on his jaw.

She wonders if she'd still be standing above ground if Max didn't jog into the room, calling, "Dyl, someone's on the phone for you!"

Billy's broad shoulder bumps harshly against Dylan and causes her to stumble when she passes him. She spun on her heel to quickly flash him both of her middle fingers. She's positive she receives the same response but she focuses on keeping her breathing even as she leaves, takes the phone from Max, and thanks her.

Dylan patiently waits until her sister stepped away to bring the receiver to her ear and snaps, "What?!"

A laugh fills the speaker. "Sorry, California, is this a bad time?"

Dylan can hardly explain the flood of relief that starts to fill her. She's never been so calm hearing someone else's voice. Clara Rhee was good. She was starting to ground her, drag her back to Earth where she belonged, happy, without Billy's torment.

"No. No, no, sorry," Dylan apologizes. She brushes away the knotted strays of her honey hair that stuck to her sweaty forehead. "It's fine. Everything's fine. What's goin' on?"

"I hope it's cool to call. I was going to Tina's Halloween bash, but I wanted to go shopping for a new costume. I trust a California girl's fashion. You in?"

Dylan hesitates. She spares a glance into the living room where she could hear Billy's heavy boots stomp across the floor. He must still be seething from their altercation and while she'd love to play out round two, Neil would be home from work soon. They needed this space beforehand otherwise he'd tell what was wrong immediately.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm in," she agrees.

The girls make plans on where to meet. Clara knew a shop in their town that might have what they needed and supplied Dylan with the directions. She says goodbye afterward and they both hung up. She avoids passing Billy in the living room as she tore her jacket off, eager to get out of her school clothes before leaving. Dylan resists the urge to chuck it at him, still pumping with the red feeling from earlier. It'd take self-control not to punch a hole into the wall of hers and Max's bedroom.

On her way, she passes a mirror in the hall. Dylan wonders when Susan had the time to hang up family pictures where they looked so happy and mirrors that told their secrets. She loathes the girl staring back. A bruise was already starting to bloom on her neck where Billy had choked her back.

It's one of the many that hid under her artistic ways.

She wonders even with all of these bruises if she could still be as beautiful as everyone believed. If only they could see Dylan Hargrove now.

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author's note:

dylan: *almost tackles and physically fights jonathan*
jonathan: 😳

bottom boy behavior

ANYWAY like i promised, and i always keep my promises, dylan's true colors showed here not once but twice. the angry girl ready to fight anyone instead of the picture perfect hargrove. also while i know billy refuses to acknowledge max as his sister, this story is (thankfully) from dylan's pov, not his. she adores max, her baby sister. period. end of story.

the second fight makes me so satisfied cause like, someone had to do it and that someone is dylan HOTgrove AYOOOO. literally her decking him and spitting on him - so iconic. i used to fight like that with my older brother, who is also incredibly abusive, and i'm basing her internal anger off of mine as well as how much i hate him.

i'm not saying this sibling behavior is healthy at all (obviously) but dylan has been pushed into this person. yes she hit first here but you'll see much more in her memories in the future that prove how she's the victim & is my precious baby and if anyone hates her for fighting her abuser stick 'em up right now and let's solve it 🥊

but back to the jonathan thing, i decided he doesn't really have feelings for nancy in this book (although they will have a great brotp) so him taking a picture of her stripping in season 1 didn't happen (otherwise he would've learned his lesson and wouldn't have done it to dylan). not to say this won't be a slow burn cause y'all know me. slow burn is the best burn.

last but not least ... THAT FUCKING SEASON 4 TRAILER. PLEASE. OMG.

ok i think that's all. xoxo thank u for reading this trash chapter hopefully i don't lose motivation writing this!! ❤️

- koda

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