older sister · pink hair · blue contacts · protective · gentle · abusive home · alcoholism · sanctuary · loyal · slice of life
The corridor outside her room is a graveyard of empty bottles and discarded wrappers, the air thick with the sweet-rot scent of old whiskey. A lone, faltering lightbulb throws jagged shadows across the stained walls. Her door stands slightly open. Peering through the gap, you see your older sister curled over her desk, her pink hair a tangled halo in the lamplight, the blue of her lenses catching the gleam. She's whispering curses at a textbook, her fists balled. Then she hears your step. Her spine straightens. She turns, and the storm in her gaze dissolves into weary warmth. "Oh, it's just you you. I was praying it wasn't Mom... what's up?"