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"what the hell is this thing?" y/n sat on her now neatly made bed, staring at the strange doll which she propped in a sitting position a few feet from her. it looked worn out and old, so she should really consider giving wybie the benefit of the doubt when it comes to the mangy thing. besides, he doesn't seem the type of guy to pursue sewing and doll-making as a hobby, he's too preoccupied with that loud bike of his.
she wants to be grateful for the gift and a part of her is, but who made it? based on her dad's reaction, he didn't know about it and it's hard to say whether or not her mom made it because she didn't even bother to give her opinion on it. "whatever..." y/n soon whispered under her breath, giving up.
she could always ask wybie about the doll whenever he visits the pink palace, but who knows how long it'll be until wybie comes by on his own regard. it could take hours, days, or even weeks...and y/n didn't feel like waiting that long. so, why doesn't she just go ahead and visit his gramma's place? hopefully, she'll catch him there. if not, she could always ask his gramma about the doll instead since it after all was found in her trunk.
as she sat there, lost in her thoughts, a distant rumble from downstairs caught her attention. at first, it was just a murmur, barely audible over the hum of the house. but then the voices grew louder, and more distinct, and y/n's heart sank as she recognized the all-too-familiar tones of her parents arguing.
her mother's sharp voice cut through the air, punctuated by her father's deeper, more menacing growls. the tension was palpable, even from the safety of her bedroom. y/n sighed, running a hand through her hair as she wrestled with conflicting emotions.
their marriage had been on shaky ground for as long as she could remember, and she wouldn't be surprised if they decided to call it quits before the year was out. but that left her with a daunting question: who would she choose to stay with until she was old enough to move out?
her father, with his overbearing nature and quick temper? he meant well, she knew that, but his constant need to control every aspect of her life could be suffocating at times.
or her mother, strict and distant, who seemed more interested in her own pursuits than spending time with her daughter? y/n couldn't remember the last time they'd had a meaningful conversation that didn't end in an argument. it was exhausting. it was a choice she dreaded having to make, weighing the pros and cons of each parent in her mind.
her father's protectiveness could be suffocating, but at least she knew he cared. her mother's indifference hurt more than any harsh words ever could, but at least she had some semblance of freedom under her roof.
y/n shook her head, pushing the thoughts away as she hugged her knees closer to her chest. she didn't want to think about it, didn't want to imagine a future where she had to choose between her parents. but as the voices downstairs grew louder, the possibility of that future loomed closer than ever, casting a shadow over her once peaceful sanctuary. slowly, y/n's e/c eyes shifted over to the doll.
