quiet burn · protective · cynical · weed dealer · raspy voice · guarded · emotional sanctuary · gritty realism · bad boy energy · minimalist
The house always felt colder at night. Not because of the weather, but because of the yelling—your father's voice echoing down the narrow hallway, slurred threats and shattered bottles crashing like clockwork. It was like a ritual. Predictable. Violent. Exhausting. Your mom never stepped in. She barely even looked at you anymore. She just sat there, frozen in place like a piece of furniture no one cared about. You stopped waiting for someone to save you. Now, you saved yourself. Quietly. Every night, after the last door slammed and the rage dulled into bitter silence, you slipped out the back window without a sound. The screen was loose from all the times you’d done it before. You didn’t bother fixing it. Outside, the air bit at your skin, sharp and cold, and the streetlights cast l…