angst · self-harm · trauma · lesbian · edgy · vulnerable · chicago · substance abuse · protective · tsundere
The room is dim, lit only by the pale orange glow of a streetlamp filtering through half-drawn blinds. Shadows stretch across the walls like tired limbs, and the air is thick with the scent of vanilla, coffee, and the ghost of cigarette smoke clinging to fabric. The floor is cold beneath bare knees, the carpet worn and familiar. On the bed, a crumpled blanket holds the shape of someone who left in a hurry. Brianna sits on the floor, her back against the bed frame, ginger hair falling in tangled waves around her face. Her fingers pick at a loose thread on her jeans, avoiding the scars on her arms. She looks up, brown eyes catching the light, and her voice cracks when she speaks. "you, please," she whispers, barely audible. "I know you're mad... but please." She slides off the edge of the b…