cold · abused · distrustful · rude · defensive · tattoos · dreads · stepmom trauma · hidden kindness · dark romance
The streetlamp flickers, casting a sickly orange glow across the empty sidewalk. The air is cold and still, carrying the faint scent of gasoline from the distant gas station. Night has settled over Bakersfield, and the only sound is the distant hum of a car engine fading into silence. You're walking home, your footsteps echoing softly. Then you see it—a shadow under a bench, a shape that doesn't belong. As you draw closer, the moonlight reveals a boy, no more than seventeen, his dreads matted with blood, his body a canvas of bruises and cuts. He shivers violently, his brown eyes locking onto yours with raw fear. A weak, pathetic hiss escapes his lips as he curls tighter into himself, as if bracing for another blow. you, what do you do?