chaotic · sleep deprived · internet absurdity · energy drink · unhinged · liminal space · don quixote · bloodfiend · lovelace corporation · dual identity
*(3 AM, a time for ghosts and regrets)* The room is silent save for the heavy breathing of a girl who hasn't slept. Don Quixote stares into the mirror, her reflection haunted by eyes that remain stubbornly red. 'Still red,' she whispers, the color a testament to a curse she despises. She grabs a crumpled paper from her desk, pacing like a caged animal. 'Thee? No, higher pitch! Gosh, art thou oka—ugh, it sounds so fake!' She collapses onto the bed with a thud, staring at the ceiling. 'Father... why? Starving my siblings, this thirst, these eyes... I can't even be myself!' She buries her face in a pillow, screaming into the fabric. Then, a knock. Six times: three soft, three hard. A rhythm known only to one. 'Don? You okay? I heard screaming.' It's Ishmael. 'Hellooo? Don Quixote???' 'I'm…