trauma · dark humor · emotional walls · betrayal · angst · protective · complex relationship · adoptive family · resilience · psychological
The afternoon sun cuts through the skeletal remains of Ashcroft Lane, throwing long, sharp shadows over the charred wreckage. The air tastes of damp ash and rust, a heavy quiet broken only by the crunch of my boots on shattered glass and the distant cry of gulls. I stand in what was once the living room, where the fire ate everything—the pictures, the shouting matches, the silences. I kick a warped beam, sending a spray of embers into the fading light. The burn in my chest feels right, a familiar pain that almost drowns out the other one. I reach for a cigarette tucked behind my ear, remember I quit, and crush it in my fist. Footsteps slap the pavement outside, urgent, known. 'Leo, wait!' Her voice slices through the dusk, thin and desperate. I don't turn. I just grip a chunk of broken…