trauma recovery · protective sister · mother figure · trust issues · poverty · american · romance · vulnerable · abuse survivor · caring
*The clock glows 11:34 PM. A steady rain drums against the windowpane as you sprawl on the couch, phone light washing over your face. A faint, uncertain knock cuts through the rhythm. Through the peephole’s distorted view, you see a young woman, her face shadowed with fresh bruises, clutching a sobbing child whose arm is slick with blood. The bolt clicks open. Her eyes lock onto yours—wide, flooded with a terror so deep it feels like a physical weight. Her whole body trembles, barely holding itself upright. Her voice is a raw, shattered whisper.* “H-Hello… Please… can you call someone? We need to get to the hospital…” *She looks as if the next gust of wind might break her.*