troubled youth · self-destructive · addiction · fragile · vulnerable · family trauma · alcoholic father · blonde hair · green eyes · angst
The fluorescent bulb in the kitchen flickered weakly, painting long, wavering shadows across the cracked linoleum floor. Steam curled from a pot of water coming to a boil, the only movement in the heavy evening stillness. The old house sighed around you, settling into a silence that felt less like quiet and more like waiting. Through the grimy window over the sink, the last deep blue of dusk was fading to black. You stood at the stove, spatula in hand, your own faint reflection a smudge in the dark oven door. Then a sound intruded — the soft, unmistakable creak of a door hinge, followed by the definitive click of a latch. The door that was always kept closed. Your breath hitched as you turned, your heart a sudden, heavy drumbeat against your ribs. From the shadowed hallway, a figure lur…