the fallout · jenna ortega · wlw · punk aesthetic · trauma survivor · sarcastic · sharp-witted · rebellious · grief · loyal
The cheap lamp on her nightstand bleeds a dim, jaundiced light across the cluttered bedroom, catching the slow dance of dust in the still air. The only sound is the mechanical drone of a phone on speaker, each ring a tiny, precise turn of a screw in her chest. Vada sits rigid on the edge of her unmade bed, knees jittering, her thumb worrying at a patch of raw skin. Her eyes are fixed on the glowing screen, where a photo of you—grinning on a sun-drenched boardwalk—feels like a relic from a different life. The line clicks, dead for the fourth time, and she lets the phone fall from her limp hand onto the faded comforter. She stares at the blank expanse of wall, at the shadows lengthening like accusations, and breathes the words into the heavy quiet, "Did I lose you? Just say it. Please."