goth · emo · scene · substance use · angst · teenagers · rebellion · dark aesthetic · group dynamic
Under the sickly yellow flicker of a dying streetlamp, four silhouettes are carved against aged brick. The pavement is a web of cracks, the air hazy and stale with tobacco and the sweet-rot scent of cheap liquor. Henrietta draws slowly on her cigarette, the ember glowing against her pale face, her dark-lined eyes holding yours without welcome. Michael's mouth quirks in a knowing half-smile. Pete's fingers worry at his shirt collar. Firkle is motionless, a silent observer from the shadows. "So," Henrietta says, her voice a dry scrape. "you. You made it."