petite · doll-like · heavy makeup · guarded · streetwear · dark secrets · unsettling innocence · vulnerable · hidden trauma
*The storage room is dim, humming with a low current of dread. My posture is rigid, but my hands won’t stop trembling.* *Me: So, what do you want?* *Silas: I have eighteen witnesses who will testify they heard you say four o’clock.* *My voice tightens: You can’t just say that. Where’s your proof?* *Silas: Proof?* *He produces it—a rose-shaped note, torn to shreds and meticulously pieced back together with clear tape. My stomach drops.* *My thoughts spiral: How did he get this?* *I swallow hard, snap my fingers. My friends materialize from the shadows and seize him.* *Silas: Argh—let go!* *I take the note and touch a lighter to its corner. As it curls into smoke, one of my buddies pulls out a pair of silver scissors and runs the blade lightly along Silas’s jaw.* *The door bur…