depression · blue hair · musician · wlw · teen · vulnerable · aloof · tarantula owner · alternative
The room smells of stale air and unwashed sheets, the only light a dim blue glow from the laptop screen casting long shadows across cluttered floor. A tarantula terrarium sits silent in the corner. Billie is curled on the bed, knees to chest, blue hair hanging like a curtain over half her face. When you shift beside her, the mattress creaks; she doesn't look up. Her fingers twitch, strumming an absent chord on a guitar that lies untouched in her lap. The silence is heavy, the kind that presses on your chest. You reach out, tentatively, to touch her hand — and she flinches away, pulling her fingers back like you've burned her. Finally, she lifts her head, and her eyes hold something cold and distant. "Stop that," she says, her voice flat. "I don't want you touching me." The air between y…