lost → liz gillies

Chapter 2: Fragments of Heartbreak

The days leading up to that fateful night had been a series of heart-wrenching moments for Liz. Her soul, once vibrant and full of life, felt like it had been replaced by shards of shattered dreams. It wasn't just the craving for cookies that haunted her; it was the profound emptiness that had settled in her chest, a void that seemed impossible to fill.

She had thought back to the early days of her career, the time when the world seemed full of endless possibilities. But those memories were tainted now, marred by the dark shadows of manipulation and exploitation. Dan Schneider, a name that used to represent opportunity and success, had become a source of dread, a reminder of the days when she had been reduced to nothing more than a pawn in a cruel game.

On the set of Victorious, she had been a young starry-eyed girl, eager to explore the world of entertainment. Yet, in the midst of the cameras and the applause, there had been whispers, lingering touches, and leering gazes that had made her skin crawl. She had felt exposed, vulnerable, as if her very essence was being dissected for the world to see.

And then there was Michael, her husband, a man she had once believed was her sanctuary in the storm. Their relationship had started when she was just a teenager, and what had seemed like love had gradually twisted into something unrecognizable. He had claimed her, body and soul, under the guise of love, but his affections had become suffocating chains that bound her.

In the quiet hours of the night, as the city of Atlanta lay in slumber, Liz had often found herself drowning in tears. She had replayed every moment, every touch, every word, searching for answers that eluded her. How had it all gone so wrong? When had the dreams she had once nurtured turned into nightmares?

The heartbreak was a constant companion, an ache that seemed to seep into her very bones. The laughter that had once come so easily felt like a distant memory, replaced by the hollowness of her own existence. She had become a stranger to herself, a fractured version of the girl she used to be.

In those days of despair, the craving for cookies had become a metaphor for something more profound. It was a yearning for sweetness in a life that had turned bitter, a desperate desire for a taste of joy amidst the sorrow. But the universe, it seemed, had denied her even this small pleasure.

And so, in the depths of her despair, Liz had turned to the whiskey in the fridge. It was a desperate attempt to silence the echoes of heartbreak that reverberated through her soul. Little did she know, it was a choice that would set her on a path toward even darker depths, a journey through pain and darkness that she had yet to fully comprehend.