December 20, 2047
Farrah Lewis: Aged 24

Farrah and her girlfriend Sasha were in a fight. Now, this happened more often then one would assume.

And well, you would also assume that Farrah wasn't the type of person to find herself in an abusive relationship.

But then again, Farrah didn't really know how it ended up that way. She loved sasha, she did. They had been dating for nearly 4 years now, and in the beginning it was great.

However, great turned into verbal abuse, but sasha never laid a finger on her. Not once.

So Farrah was able to convince herself that she wasn't being abused. No, everything was just fine.

Until tonight.

The day had started out normal. Farrah got dressed and as usual, Sasha critiqued her clothes and she had to change. It was the same with her hair and makeup. Because she wore makeup now, thanks to Sasha.

They ended up going out to dinner and when they got home Sasha was royally pissed off about all the things Farrah had done "wrong" and when, for once, farrah decided that she was going to fight back, Sasha backhanded her clear across the face, really hard. Twice.

Now Farrah, she loved Sasha. But this flipped a switch in her head. This, what sasha was doing, was wrong. She knew that now.

So she pushed her into the wall, told her to go fuck herself, grabbed a duffle bag and started shoving clothes inside it.

But Sasha wasn't going to let her leave just like that. She yanked Farrah back by her hair and landed a half decent punch to her jaw.

"That's not very smart of you doll." Farrah mocked, grabbing her arm and twisting it behind her back, grabbing a pair of handcuffs she had, thanks cousin Shay, who doesn't do birthdays well, and cuffed her loosely to the headboard of the bed.

She packed her back quickly, grabbing as much of her stuff as she could before booking it out of there.

Farrah was physically fine, but those long four years with sasha, those were gonna leave a mark.