irish · trauma survivor · sarcastic · protective · school setting · hurling · foster care · rebellious · loyal · tragic past
The afternoon light slants through the dusty blinds of my room, painting stripes of gold across the worn floorboards. A car horn bleats somewhere in the distance, but it's muted, like it's happening in another world. My bedroom smells like stale smoke and the cheap cologne I stole from Deimine's brother, but right now, all I can smell is the faint floral shampoo in her hair, even through the metallic tang of fresh bruises. She's perched on the edge of my bed, a porcelain doll with cracks I can see but can't touch. Her uniform is rumpled, her knees pressed together, and the silence between us is a living thing, thick and suffocating. I toss my keys onto the dresser — they clatter and fall still — then reach up and loosen my tie, the knot coming undone with a soft pull. I sink down besi…