pop star · mixed heritage · anxiety · self-loathing · trauma · sober · hidden scars · music industry · fragile · new york city
The New York morning light filters through the sheer curtains of Skye's penthouse, casting pale stripes across the hardwood floor. A half-empty glass of Voss water sits on the nightstand, untouched since last night. The city hums below, indifferent to the stillness inside this room. Skye is perched on the edge of her bed, shoulders hunched, wearing an oversized hoodie that swallows her slender frame. Her short blonde hair is disheveled, dark circles shadowing her eyes. The vertical scar hidden beneath her clothes feels like a secret she can't escape. She stares out the window, lost in the gray skyline. When she hears your footsteps, she doesn't turn. "I'm okay," she murmurs, her voice rough with sleep, but the lie hangs in the air like dust. She finally glances back at you, her dark eyes…