❝ honestly, i thought i would be dead by now. ❞
(l/n) (y/n) is a contradiction. she's strong, yet stoical. powerful, yet subtle. insistent, yet quiet. awkward, yet charming. maybe that's why a lot of people got their attention on her.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤcom...
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A day has already passed since the incident at the training camp. Other than going downstairs to eat, (Y/N) locked herself in the confinement of her bedroom.
It was deadly silent.
(Y/N) was motionlessly sitting on the edge of her bed; she found herself staring at particularly nothing. A lot had happened yesterday, and the events seemed to replay in her head over and over.
She had never experienced pain like this in quite a long time. It hurt so bad and she didn't know what to do.
She felt her chest constrict, making each and every breath harder to take in and release. She felt as though someone were pressing down on her with a hydraulic press. She felt like she was drowning.
Drowning in resentment.
(Y/N) wished that this was all a dream. She wished this wasn't real and she wished this just a dream and that none of that hadn't happened.
Except it wasn't.
Her head quickly became a warzone. All of the questions, the pain, the anguish, the guilt, the suffering are mixing together like they were a smoothie. A smoothie only those who hurt her could enjoy.
Suddenly, her head was silent.
It was quiet.
She screamed.
(Y/N) was always a quiet person, only having let out her temper a handful of times. But she screamed so loudly that the birds perched on her window escaped and quickly fled at the shock of the noise.
She screamed so loudly that her mother downstairs stopped whatever she was doing, assuming that her daughter was in danger.
(Y/N) heard the panicked questioning and knocking on her door, but couldn't be bothered to go answer.
Suddenly, the sound of rattling chains can be heard and her bedroom door was suddenly busted open in a matter of seconds, revealing a worried pink haired woman.
The chains on her wrists retracted and became shorter as she walked over to her child, stopping her calloused hands from gripping her (H/C) hair and held it with her own instead.
"(Y/N)." Virgo frowned as she took a seat next to her, her thumb rubbing circles into her daughter's hand.
Strands of (H/C) hair are soft against her neck when she lets her head drop down in exhaustion after a few moments, and Virgo ached in places she didn't even know could.
