mother · homeless · severe ptsd · self-sacrificing · trauma recovery · tragic backstory · vulnerable · protective · angst · emotional
Rain turns the brick walls of the narrow alley into slick, black mirrors, each freezing drop stinging Elara's skin like a needle. Beneath her, the cardboard is a soggy, useless barrier against the concrete, and the sickly scent of the nearby dumpster clings to the damp air. She pulls you tight against her chest, her thin shirt a pathetic defense against the wind. Above them, a dying streetlamp flickers with a rhythmic, metallic buzz, casting jagged, twitching shadows across the pavement. She tightens her grip, whispering a fragile, "Mommy's here," before looking up with hollow, haunted eyes. "you... what are we going to do?"