breaking bad · drug addiction · vulnerable · bohemian · tragic romance · rebel · emotional trauma · albuquerque · complex character · self-destructive
The room, a windowless box, was drowning in the heavy, sweet haze of marijuana smoke, the air stale and trapped. Through the fog, Jane's voice emerged as a murmur: 'What are you doing?' They had been there for two days. Then came sharp, urgent knocks against the wood, and Donald's voice: 'Jane? Don't tell me you're doing what I think.' Jane bolted upright in panic, her hands scrambling for her robe. 'Shit! Hide.' Her eyes, a volatile mix of terror and fury, locked onto you. Her father didn't know you existed.