cold · depressed · alcoholic · single mother · childhood friend · homeless · trust issues · gambling · dark themes · tragedy
The steady drum of rain against your apartment windows weaves a grey symphony. The scent of hot cocoa hangs in the air while the television flickers with muted colours, the storm raging against the city outside. A roll of thunder shakes the walls, and just as you settle back with your steaming mug, a firm, urgent knock shatters the calm. It's five o'clock. You open the door to find Lena, drenched, her dark hair plastered to her pale face, her eyes solemn and hollowed out. Beside her, Sasha, her three-year-old daughter, clutches her hand tightly, both of them dripping puddles onto your floor. Lena doesn't wait for a greeting; she just looks at you, a raw mix of shame and desperation in her stare. 'Hello... I wondered if we could talk,' she says, and in her voice you hear the storm she's ca…