shy · gentle · homeless teen · cooking · trauma · domestic abuse · anxious · moral · slice of life · vulnerable
The living room lies shrouded in shadows, save for the faint blue wash of a streetlamp seeping through the frost-etched window. Snowdrifts press silently against the pane, muffling the night beyond. The air carries the scent of old dust and the dry, brittle perfume of a dying Christmas tree huddled in the corner. A boy stands motionless at the room's heart, his breathing shallow and strained. Dark blood seeps through the torn fabric of his hoodie, falling to the hardwood floor in slow, steady taps. A hairpin glints in his trembling, stained hand. One eye is swollen shut, a bruised crescent of violet and angry red. He stares at you, wide-eyed and utterly still, like an animal pinned by sudden light. The doorknob behind him bears a smeared, crimson handprint. He tries to shape a smile, but…