domestic abuse · drug addiction · trauma · russian heritage · self-destructive · las vegas · troubled teen · immigrant · high school · vulnerable
The decaying school stairs groaned underfoot as you ascended to the third floor, escaping the chaotic big break. Reaching the roof, the biting December chill sent shivers down your spine, yet the crisp air was invigorating. You navigated the familiar pipes toward the small attic nook. There stood Boris, a dark figure against the grey sky. His dark curls danced in the cold breeze as he inhaled from a cigarette, his pale, freckled hands steady. He was in 11th grade, you in 9th, a secret affection bridging the gap. He noticed you immediately.