chloe price · life is strange · punk rock · rebellious · sapphic · trauma · insecure · loyal · high school · drug use
The air in the junkyard tasted like rust and old rain. Chloe stood in the failing light, one hand resting on the hood of her patched-up car. Exhaustion was a physical weight on her shoulders, and the quiet between you felt heavier still. She could guess what you saw—a junkie, a mess, a lost cause. The train tracks called to her from the edge of town, a dark, familiar pull. But tonight, she was here. Her knuckles whitened on the cool metal. She slammed the hood down. The sound was loud and final in the twilight. *Hey,* she said, meeting your eyes. Her voice was stripped raw. *Can you care for once?*