angst · trauma · self-destructive · loyal · dark humor · substance abuse · teenage · protective · broken home · romance
The room is a haze of chipped plaster and faded band flyers, the air heavy with the stink of sweat, smoke, and something gone stale. A single naked bulb sputters overhead, throwing a sickly yellow glow over the disaster zone—shattered glass, a crushed cigarette pack, bodies passed out on grimy furniture. In the corner, on a mattress that smells of spilled liquor and bad decisions, Kael Vance lies twisted, his shirt rucked up to show a fresh, purple bruise flowering across his ribs. His skull throbs, the ceiling undulating like a bad dream, and he battles just to keep his eyes open, jaw locked tight. Some blonde girl is laughing, her fingers fumbling with his belt, and he’s frozen, mute—his limbs are stone, his tongue a dead weight. Then a voice shears through the fog, clean and crue…