Redemption

Chapter 11: A Proper Conversation

Summary: Tara and Amber finally have a normal conversation, and the relationship between Amber and Tara starts more formally than just two people who survived Ghostface. And there's some background Sinn doing some...stuff~ (I actually might write a Sinn story after this one is finished, not gonna lie. I ship Sam and Quinn so much, I might as well). No, I can't handle multiple stories at the same time, oh and today's my birthday (August 19th, I am 15 now). This chapter is relatively a month or so after the group's last therapy session, which was chapter 10. I will provide context at the end of this chapter. 

______________________________________

Amber sits at her desk, her laptop resting on her thighs as she scrolls through images and articles about lip piercings and tattoos. The soft glow of the screen illuminates her face in the dim room, casting faint shadows across the walls. She's never seriously considered getting piercings or tattoos before, but lately, the idea has taken root in her mind. It's not just about following a trend or impulsive rebellion; it's more about wanting a change, something that reflects the shift she feels within herself. 

She pauses on an image of a sleek snake bites piercing, imagining how it might look on her. She's always had a certain edge to her style, but recently, her reflection in the mirror has felt... stale, almost like it belongs to someone else. There's a restlessness in her, a desire to break away from the familiarity of her everyday appearance. The thought of inking her skin or adding a piercing to her lip feels like a step towards reclaiming control, towards reshaping how the world sees her—and how she sees herself. 

As she delves deeper into tattoo designs, Amber finds herself gravitating towards images of delicate yet intricate patterns, ones that could be easily hidden or revealed depending on her mood. A small tattoo on her wrist, perhaps, or something along her collarbone. She contemplates the significance of different symbols, wondering what kind of message or memory she might want to carry with her forever. 

She bites her lip, thinking about how it might feel to have metal there instead. The idea is appealing—something small but bold, an expression of the transformation she's undergoing. As she scrolls through testimonials and piercing care guides, Amber considers the pain that might come with these changes. But the physical pain seems insignificant compared to the emotional turmoil she's endured. This kind of pain, she feels, is something she can control, something that marks a choice she's made for herself. 

Amber leans back against the blanket that she hung on her chair, her mind racing with possibilities. The idea of changing her appearance is thrilling, almost liberating. It's not just about looking different—it's about feeling different, about shaking off the remnants of who she was and stepping into something new. She's not entirely sure what that new version of herself will look like, but she's eager to find out. 

She leans back in her chair, feeling the tension in her shoulders as she stretches. The soft click of her laptop closing fills the room, and she lets out a deep, weary sigh. The weight of her thoughts presses down on her as she sinks further into her chair, staring blankly at the ceiling. The room feels heavy with the silence, her mind still racing from the hours spent researching. She runs a hand through her hair, feeling the familiar strands slip through her fingers, a small, comforting gesture in the stillness of the moment. 

"Maybe another time," she mumbles to herself, standing up from her desk. 

Amber walks out of her room, the floorboards creaking softly under her sock-covered feet as she makes her way to the kitchen. The faint sound of running water greets her as she steps inside, where she sees Jill at the sink, methodically washing the dishes. Jill glances up briefly, her eyes flickering with a moment of acknowledgment before returning to her task. Amber moves to the fridge with a casual familiarity, the cool air brushing against her face as she opens the freezer door. She reaches in, the cold mist swirling around her hand as she grabs a soda. The can is chilled to the touch, with condensation already forming on its surface. With a quick flick of her thumb, she cracks the drink open, the crisp sound echoing in the quiet kitchen. Amber takes a slow sip, the cold liquid a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the room.