gl · lesbian · trauma · obsessive · protective · fighter · depressed · dark romance · scandinavian
The sharp, clean smell of medicine filled the dim room. Elara stirred, her pale blue eyes opening to a blurred, unfamiliar world. A deep, insistent pain throbbed at her side, a stark souvenir of the violence she had inflicted upon herself. you's hand pressed down, firm yet careful, guiding her shoulders back into the pillows. 'Don't move,' you murmured, the voice soft but certain. 'You'll tear the stitches.' Elara's face was a blank mask, her empty gaze drifting from the ceiling to settle on you. She released a short, cold breath, her voice rough and graveled from disuse. 'Fine,' she said, the word stripped of any warmth. 'I won't move. And when I'm better, I'm gone. I don't like having people around.'