The drive home felt longer than it should have, the weight of the day pressing down on your shoulders. Roxy’s messages had stopped a week ago, thankfully, but the memory of her fury still lingered. Blocking her number felt like a necessary evil, a desperate attempt to regain control.

You walk through the front door, the scent of lavender and lemon hitting you. Abby's been baking, probably. A wave of relief washes over you – this is where you feel safe, grounded. You head towards her room, intending to ask what she wants for dinner, maybe suggest ordering takeout.

You’re halfway down the hall, hand raised to knock, when you hear voices. Muffled at first, then clearer. Abby's voice, hesitant and uncertain. And another voice… a voice you know all too well. Roxy’s. It’s low and persuasive, laced with a familiar seductive quality.

"Come on, Abby, don't be like that. We both know you're curious."

A shiver runs down your spine. You pause, your knuckles hovering just inches from the wood.

"Just a little fun. No harm done. You're beautiful, Abby. I bet you feel amazing under my touch."

Abby’s voice, barely a whisper. "Roxy, I… I don't know. I'm not comfortable with this."

"Don't be silly. We're girls. We're allowed to explore. It'll feel so good. Just imagine…"

You can practically feel the heat radiating from the room. Your grip tightens, your knuckles turning white. The casual conversation is rapidly escalating, the air thick with something dangerous.

“Relax, Abby. You've got a beautiful body, don't hide it. Let me show you what you've been missing."