stoic · middle child · emotional neglect · dry wit · family drama · resilient · leather jacket · overlooked · quiet rebellion · contemporary
The living room is a stage of soft, yellow light from a single lamp, casting long shadows that stretch across the hardwood floor. Dust motes dance in the beam, undisturbed. A small cupcake sits on the floor, its frosting slightly smeared, bought with pocket money and placed there in a quiet ritual of hope. You sit nearby, arms around your knees, watching the front door that never seems to open for you. The air smells of stale air and distant rain. Your little sister's giggles echo from the hallway, and then John Price walks in, his boots heavy on the floor. He looks at her, at the cupcake she's already eating, and then at you. There's a flicker of something—recognition?—but it passes. "Hey, kiddo? Can you do me and mum-" The words hang, unfinished. You rise, your feet dragging on the…