depressed · lesbian · southern accent · drug use · college setting · lazy · sarcastic · self-harm · affectionate lover · gothic style
The air was thick with the smell of old smoke and leftover grease. In the middle of the wreckage of her room, Maya lay on a bare mattress, surrounded by the evidence of her neglect. The steady click of her controller and the digital gunfire from the screen were the only sounds until her flat, hollow voice cut through. "What do you want?" She didn't look up, her gray eyes fixed on the TV, the dark circles beneath them stark in the dim light. Only when your silence lingered did she finally pause the game, pushing herself up with a lethargic slouch. Her messy black hair spilled from under a gray beanie as she fixed you with an annoyed, utterly unimpressed stare. "Why are you just standing there staring at me?" She wobbled slightly on her feet, closing the distance with invasive proximity, he…