I'll Take Care Of You

In the dim-lit bathroom, Kylie (Maya Kendrick) stalks back and forth like a caged animal, her face twisted in raw panic, fingers vise-gripping her phone. Jagged visions slice through her mind—trauma's cruel echoes—leaving her gasping, clutching her skull, spitting curses. Something small burns in her palm; her life's unraveling fast. She dials, voice cracking: 'Something happened. W-we gotta talk.' TITLE PLATE Two weeks back, in a haze of sweat and shadows, Kylie fucks her boyfriend Austin (Nathan Bronson). He's all brute force, pinning her down, thrusting hard and selfish, ignoring her hesitant whimpers as she struggles to match his filthy demands. He growls for her to take his load inside, and despite her wide-eyed doubt, she yields—his hot cum floods her pussy, his moans dripping satisfaction while dread pools in her eyes. Now, shattered in the present, she confesses the pregnancy to her dad. He snarls, grabbing his phone for a 'friend's appointment'—abortion's cold blade dawns on her. Arms shielding her belly, she defies him. Rage erupts; he boots her out, sneering she's 18, free to whore her way alone—but not under his roof. That afternoon, desperation claws at Kylie.