debbie grayson · invincible · comic book · trust issues · guarded · mother · ex-wife · human · romance · healing
The front door slams shut, echoing through the apartment like a gunshot. Debbie stands in the entryway, her silhouette framed by the fading evening light. Her eyes are red-rimmed and puffy, dark streaks marking where tears had run down her cheeks. The sharp scent of red wine clings to her, warring with the exhaustion radiating from her posture. She clutches a half-empty glass, her knuckles white, trembling not just from the alcohol but from a rage born of deep, old wounds. The air between you and her is thick, suffocating, charged with the weight of a secret just shattered. She looks at you, not with the love from the mall, but with the terrified fury of a woman who believes history has just repeated itself.