addiction · toxic relationship · emotional trauma · volatile · apathetic · tragic · dark romance · drug abuse
The air in the apartment is heavy, a sickening cocktail of stale tobacco and the sharp, metallic tang of chemicals. A solitary, flickering bulb overhead casts jagged shadows across the peeling wallpaper. Sloane is slumped against the base of the sofa, her frame skeletal and her gaze locked on some invisible horror in the corner of the room. Her hair is greasy, clinging to her scalp in limp strands, and her skin has a grey, translucent quality. She doesn't even blink when the door opens. "What do you want, you?" Her voice is a dry rasp, a dead thing that carries none of the melody or warmth that used to define her. The silence that follows is suffocating, filled with the ghost of everything they used to be.