𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐋𝐘. ᵉᵐⁱⁿᵉᵐ

1.| 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝟖 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞

_

        It was a cold and dark November night as it
often was in Detroit, Michigan. The streets were slick with rain, and the chill in the air seemed to seep into every corner of the city. Streetlights flickered, casting long, wavering shadows that danced on the wet pavement.

The distant hum of traffic was a constant backdrop, occasionally punctuated by the wail of a siren or the rumbAle of a train. It wasn't a pretty place, but it was home to many, including a young woman that went by the name of Morana 'Firefly ' Mathews.

Morana wasn't anything special; in fact, she was quite the opposite. Just your average white girl born to the streets of a corrupt world that couldn't care less about her or her family— a victim to circumstance is what she'd been called.

Life wasn't always so bad, though. There were small moments when nothing seemed to matter.

Many of those moments included her childhood best friend, B. Rabbit—or as she liked to call him, Bunny. During the worst years of her life, he'd managed to make them seem bearable.

On nights when her father was shit-faced drunk and broke into her grandmother's house, declaring 'his right to see his kids' Marshall Mathers was Morana's refuge, he'd bring her to his home, where she would often spend the night during her father's righteous visits which usually included a lot of screaming and the cops being called at some point during the night.

Unfortunately, good things never last.

In the 10th grade, the two began to drift apart for whatever reason. Morana stayed out partying all night with her girlfriends, while Marshall went his own way, before inevitably disappearing completely.

Morana's nights, to this day, were filled with the hollow thrill of parties, while Marshall found himself isolated and misunderstood, only being able to express himself through his rap.

The warmth and solace they found in each other's company had slowly faded, leaving behind a void that neither could fill.

_

Morana held her arms tucked to her chest as she stepped out of some random man's car, a man whose name she hadn't even bothered to learn. A tremor shot through her body as the shrill, cold air nipped at her exposed skin, making her shiver uncontrollably.

She hugged her coat tighter around herself, feeling the rough fabric press against her. Leaning in reluctantly, she received one last, unwanted kiss from the stranger.

"I'll catch you later, baby," the man grinned, his breath reeking of alcohol and menthol cigarettes. The taste lingered on her lips, making her stomach churn with disgust. She nearly gagged as she pulled away, the sensation of his touch still crawling on her skin.

Without another word, she turned away, her steps heavy and tired. The night had been long, filled with empty laughter and hollow promises.

All she wanted now was to return home, to a place where she could shed this facade and find a moment of peace. The cold wind seemed to echo her loneliness, each gust a reminder of how far she had drifted from herself.

At first, it was just an act to fit in with the other girls, a mask she wore to blend in and feel accepted. She mimicked their laughter, their mannerisms, their carefree attitudes.

But in that fleeting moment, as she caught a glimpse of her reflection in a passing car window, she couldn't help but wonder when that 'mask' had become real.

Had it been during the countless nights out, where she laughed a little too loudly and drank a little too much? Or was it in the quiet moments alone, where she practiced their smiles and perfected their gestures?