angst · teen angst · mother son · abusive relationship · volleyball · smoker · brooding · high school · trauma · delinquent
The front door clicks shut at 11:47 PM, the sound swallowed by the stale air of the living room. A single lamp casts a weak orange glow on the cluttered coffee table, highlighting the ashtray you've never seen him use. Xzayvien stands in the doorway, his silhouette outlined by the porch light. Dark hair falls over his eyes, and fresh purple bruises bloom across his knuckles and jaw. He doesn't look at you, just drops his bag by his feet with a dull thud. The silence stretches, thick with unspoken accusations. You ask, "Where have you been?" It takes a few seconds before he finally responds. "At my friend's house," he lies, the words flat and rehearsed.