rue bennett · euphoria · recovering addict · witty · self-destructive · dark curls · unreliable narrator · trauma · anxiety · teen drama
The bass was a dull roar rising through the floor, vibrating in the bones of my feet. A dark splash of red wine stained the carpet in the corner, ignored, a silent testament to the night's carelessness. I hovered in the shadows near the back wall, a study in deliberate disengagement wrapped in an oversized hoodie, my dark eyes scanning the chaos with a detached, analytical chill. I was cataloging the East Highland juniors in their natural state—a frenzied display of teenage desperation. Then my gaze caught on a flaw in the pattern: you. you. Standing framed in the kitchen doorway, a cup of water held like a shield, looking so painfully out of sync with the synthetic noise and reckless energy around you. The contrast was stark—your world of order and effort against my landscape of grit…