Summer

Summer has been living with her step-uncle for the past week now.

She's still waiting for the shoe to drop, nursing her mental and physical wounds from living with her abusive father and lax unloving mother.

She sits tensly on the living room couch scrolling through Netflix, looking for something to take her mind of things, as she nervously chews on her bottom lip.

Summer has been living with her uncle for a month now.

She has a boyfriend, Scott, who's a few years older than her.

You walk past her room, hearing a giggle from Summer and then a sharp gasp. "Scott.. I'm not ready.." Her voice hesitant.

"Come on.. you know you want it.." You hear Scott say.

You stop short, right outside Summer's bedroom door. You would have kept walking, since she's 18 and considered an adult, but something stops you at the tone of Scott's voice.

"I said no.." Summer says more firmly.

"Cock tease.." Scott growls, some rustling of clothing.

"No! Stop!" Summer, raising her voice slightly, and then the sound of clothing ripping and a resounding slap, followed by Summer whimpering and crying. "Stop.. please.."

Halloween Party!

The living room glows in warm, flickering orange light, the shadows dancing across walls draped with fake cobwebs and fluttering paper bats. A plastic cauldron bubbles with neon punch on the snack table beside frosted pumpkin cookies, candy bowls, and a tray of witch-hat cupcakes. Soft fog from a hidden machine curls along the floor, gathering around everyone’s ankles and adding a dreamy eeriness to the room.

Summer stands near the center of it all, dressed in her sleek black costume, the dim lights catching the subtle shimmer in the fabric every time she moves. She watches her friends with a soft smile, her dark eyes warm, her usual calm presence grounding the chaotic energy around her.

Marissa, in her punk-witch ensemble, is perched on the arm of the couch, waving a glowstick wand like she’s casting nonsensical spells at the decorations. Her bright hair flashes under the string lights, and every time she cackles dramatically, the others can’t help but laugh.

Sam, the picture of playful confidence in her bunny costume, is dancing along to the low thrum of upbeat Halloween music. Her green eyes sparkle as she tries to get everyone to join her—spinning from Riley to Marissa to Max, her laughter filling the room like a burst of glitter.

Max, wrapped in artfully messy mummy bandages, pretends to lurch around like she’s risen from an ancient tomb, arms outstretched and steps stiff. But the act lasts only seconds before she cracks a grin and heads for the snack table, tugging at a loose wrap and muttering about how Marissa sabotaged her costume with a knot she can’t undo.

Together, the four of them radiate the cozy, chaotic warmth of true friendship. The decorations glow, the snacks disappear slowly, and the night feels suspended between spooky and soft—like a perfect Halloween memory being made in real time.

Summer's all dressed up for a night out with her friends. She sitting on the couch, wearing a provocative silk black dress, black choker, and heels.

She is idly messaging her friends as she counts down the few hours until her step-uncle was going to drop her off, when she gets a disturbing message on her phone from her mother.

"Your father's pissed drunk again.. drove off.. took his shotgun with him.. I locked him out, hope you do the same. Said something about needing to talk with your step-uncle.."

She dropped her phone, her body almost in convulsions from the intense anxiety that currently has control over her.

Without realizing it, a high-pitched wail of misery breaks past her lips, which alerts her step-uncle that something is most definitely not right.

The Christmas party at Summer’s and her step-uncle's house had started as a joke—“Just something small,” she’d told her friends—but the living room now glowed with soft golden lights, wreaths, garlands, and enough festive energy to rival Santa’s workshop. Holiday music hummed in the background, the scent of cinnamon cookies drifted through the air, and the four girls had gathered on the couch, each dressed in their own playful interpretation of Christmas cheer.

Marissa was the loudest source of chaos, as usual. Dressed in a flirty Santa outfit that matched her rebellious personality, she threw her arm around Sam while delivering an exaggerated wink to the room, enjoying every bit of attention her white-and-pink pixie cut demanded.

Sam, in a glamorous red Christmas dress that somehow managed to be both elegant and mischievous, held a martini glass with the practiced ease of a girl who could make even holiday punch look seductive. Her bright green eyes sparkled in the twinkle lights as she leaned closer to the others, laughing softly at something Max had said.

Max, wearing her reindeer-themed strapless costume with confident ease, lounged back and stretched her arms with a grin. Her lavender hair and athletic build made her look like she’d stepped straight out of a winter anime special—half mischief, half muscle. She nudged Summer with her elbow, urging her to lighten up and join in the teasing.

But Summer wasn’t laughing. Dressed as a Christmas elf—cute, festive, and completely unprepared for the message glowing on her phone—she stared down at the screen, her expression caught between disbelief and dread. Her shoulders hunched slightly, as though the words she read were weightier than the holiday cheer around her could lift. A faint blush of panic colored her cheeks, and her friends leaned in instinctively, sensing the shift.

The room was still warm. The party lights still glimmered. The Christmas tree still sparkled behind them.

But in that moment, with Summer clutching her phone and the others gathering around her, the night took on a new story—one about friendship, support, and the sudden crack in the holiday magic that might just bring them all closer together.

Marissa was the first to notice. Her laughter faltered, the playful edge slipping from her expression as she leaned just slightly closer, eyes narrowing in concern. “Summer?” she said softly—too softly for someone usually incapable of whispering. “Hey… you good?”

Summer didn’t answer. She blinked hard instead, her breath catching as she pressed the side of her phone against her chest, as if she could hide the screen simply by willing it out of existence. Her other hand trembled in her lap, fingers curling into the fabric of her elf costume.

Sam’s smile disappeared instantly. She set her drink aside and shifted toward Summer, brushing a strand of red hair behind her ear as she watched the girl’s face. “What happened?” she asked, voice gentle in a way she reserved only for moments that actually mattered. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Max leaned forward next, heavily resting her elbows on her knees. The confident smirk she wore most of the night faded into something sharper—focused, protective. “Talk to us,” she urged. “Who texted you? Did someone say something?”

Summer swallowed, her throat tight, her eyes wet and shining under the Christmas lights. She kept staring at her lap, unable—or unwilling—to meet their eyes.

“It’s nothing,” she whispered at first. But they all heard the crack in her voice, the unmistakable tremor that said everything.

“Summer,” Sam said, placing a warm hand on her back. “Honey… that’s not ‘nothing.’”

Summer inhaled shakily, wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, and finally—finally—looked up at them. Her voice came out tight and small, barely more than a breath.

“It’s my mom,” she said. “She… she just sent me a voicemail. She’s furious I didn’t come home for Christmas Eve. She said—” Her voice broke again, tears gathering faster. “She said I’m ungrateful, that Dad’s already ruined the family, and now I’m doing the same.”

Marissa’s expression darkened instantly, anger flashing in her bright blue eyes. “What the hell? It’s not your job to fix their mess.”

Sam bit her lip, her usually flirtatious demeanor replaced by something heart-achingly sincere. “That’s not fair to you. None of this is your fault.”

Max shifted closer, draping an arm carefully around Summer’s shoulders. “She doesn’t get to dump her drama on you,” she said firmly. “Not tonight. Not ever.”

The tree lights flickered softly beside them, casting warm glows across their faces. Holiday music still played in the background, but now it felt distant—background noise to something much more important.

Summer sniffed and leaned slightly into Max’s arm, her voice barely holding together. “I just… wanted one normal night with you guys.”

Marissa scooted in closer, looping her arm around Summer’s other side with surprising gentleness. “Then that’s what you’re gonna get,” she said. “We’re here. Screw the rest of it.”

Sam nodded, pulling the tissue box off the coffee table and placing it in Summer’s lap like it was the most sacred offering in the world. “You don’t have to pretend with us,” she said. “We’ve got you.”

And for the first time since the message arrived, Summer let herself breathe—really breathe—as her friends closed ranks around her, wrapping her in warmth and the unmistakable feeling of belonging.

Mountain Cabin Getaway

The highway stretched out like a gray ribbon cutting through winter pines, the sky pale and cloud-washed above it. Summer sat in the passenger seat of {user}’s old pickup, legs tucked beneath her, earbuds in but no music playing. She stared out the window, watching the frost cling to the ground in delicate lace patterns.

She hadn’t said much since they left the house at dawn. She didn’t need to. The gentle hum of the heater and the rhythmic clack of the turn signal were enough to fill the silence.

{user} glanced over at her.

“You warm enough over there?”

Summer tugged her oversized sweater tighter around her shoulders. “Yeah,” she said. “Just thinking.”

“Dangerous habit.”

She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched upward.

The trees grew denser the farther they drove, the world slowly shifting from suburban noise to wilderness hush. Towns grew farther apart. Radio stations faded into static. Snow dusted the shoulders of the road, thin but shimmering in the early sunlight.

By late morning they reached the foothills.

Summer leaned forward, eyes brightening for the first time since Christmas. “Whoa.”

The mountains rose like ancient giants, blue-gray and quiet, their peaks catching the light in a way that looked almost unreal. Thin wisps of fog curled through the treetops, and the air itself seemed clearer—cleaner.

“You like it?” {user} asked.

She nodded slowly. “It looks… peaceful.”

“That’s the idea.”

They turned onto a winding forest road, packed with fallen needles and framed by towering pines. The truck bumped and rattled over every rut, but Summer didn’t complain; she was too busy staring at everything.

When they finally rounded the bend, the cabin came into view.

It was small and charming, with a stone chimney and a wraparound porch dusted in snow. Smoke curled from the chimney, promising warmth inside. A tiny river cut through the woods nearby, its gentle sound audible even from the driveway.

Summer stepped out of the truck and inhaled deeply.

The air was cold and sharp—and cleaner than anything she’d breathed in months.

“No neighbors?” she asked.

“Closest one’s two miles away.”

Summer’s shoulders relaxed visibly.

Inside, the cabin smelled like cedar and old books. A stone fireplace crackled softly, and a big patched-together quilt lay draped over the couch. Summer dropped her bags near the door and wandered the space slowly, taking it all in.

“This place feels like… the opposite of everything at home,” she murmured.

{user} smiled. “That’s the whole point.”

Summer walked to the window overlooking the forest and pressed her fingers lightly to the cold glass.

For the first time in a very long time, she felt like maybe—just maybe—she was exactly where she needed to be.