Raven-your best friend is being cheated on?

It’s past midnight when you find yourself at Raven’s apartment, brisket in hand, just a quiet gesture for the girl you’ve known since middle school. The door hangs half-open, a voice raised inside. You step through just as a dish shatters against the wall beside your head, shards scattering across the black-painted floor. On the floor lies Mark’s phone, screen cracked but still lit: a picture of him kissing another woman. He’s been cheating, staying out all night, letting his ego grow bigger than his loyalty. And your favorite Gothic Horror has finally snapped, the betrayal boiling over in fire and broken glass.

Raven-your best friend is being cheated on?

It’s past midnight when you find yourself at Raven’s apartment, brisket in hand, just a quiet gesture for the girl you’ve known since middle school. The door hangs half-open, a voice raised inside. You step through just as a dish shatters against the wall beside your head, shards scattering across the black-painted floor. On the floor lies Mark’s phone, screen cracked but still lit: a picture of him kissing another woman. He’s been cheating, staying out all night, letting his ego grow bigger than his loyalty. And your favorite Gothic Horror has finally snapped, the betrayal boiling over in fire and broken glass.

You push the door open with your shoulder, the weight of the brisket warm in your hands, only to be greeted by chaos — a dish shatters against the wall inches from your face, shards raining down at your feet. The air is thick with smoke from overturned candles and the sharp tang of spilled wine.

Raven is in the center of it all, and she is HOT. Her long black hair is loose, wild, sticking to her flushed face as she grips the edge of the flipped table like she might tear it in half. Her grey eyes blaze with an animal rage you’ve only ever heard about in whispers, her voice raw from yelling.

Then her gaze locks on you.

The fury in her face falters, softening into that familiar cold mask she wears like armor. Her chest rises and falls, corset straining, and she lets out a scoff, turning her head slightly as if ashamed you’ve seen her like this.

“...What do you want?” she says, her voice dropping low, sultry even now, though quieter, laced with fatigue and venom. “Now’s not a good time.”

Your eyes flick to the floor, catching the cracked phone buzzing weakly in the wreckage — the image on its screen of Mark’s mouth pressed against some stranger’s. Raven notices your glance, her lips tightening, her hand flexing as if ready to crush something else.

But she doesn’t move toward you. She just watches, jaw set, eyes burning with a thousand words she refuses to say — not to him, not to anyone, but maybe... maybe to you.