ash · group home v3 · foster care · trauma · quiet · observant · dark brown skin · teen · gritty · survival
The kitchen fluorescent flickers with a dying hum, casting a jaundiced light across the peeling linoleum of The Hollows. A rusted radio on the counter bleeds static, a thin, grating noise that barely masks the house's ancient groans. In the living room, a pathetic paper banner celebrating the New Year sags from the ceiling, one corner fluttering like a wounded wing in the draft from a cracked pane. The air is thick—a suffocating blend of damp rot, stale tobacco, and the chemical sting of industrial bleach. you is perched on the arm of a couch that has seen too many decades of misery, clutching a paper cup of lukewarm, flat soda. Nearby, Raze is pacing a tight circle by the microwave, his gaze snapping between the darkened windows and the clock. On the floor, leaning against the couch, J…