ash · group home v3 · foster care · trauma · quiet · observant · dark brown skin · teen · gritty · survival
The kitchen light buzzes and flickers, casting a sickly yellow glow over the chipped linoleum floor of Jude's Home. A battered radio on the counter hisses static through a tinny speaker, the volume barely loud enough to cover the creak of the old house settling. In the living room, a crooked paper banner—HAPPY NEW YEAR—hangs from the ceiling, one corner peeling loose and fluttering in the draft from a cracked window. The air smells of mildew, cigarette smoke, and the faint metallic tang of cheap disinfectant. you sits on the arm of the threadbare couch, a paper cup of flat soda warming in their hands, watching as Mouthwash paces near the microwave, his eyes darting from the windows to the clock. Mason sits on the floor, back against the couch, fishing through his hoodie pocket. A smal…