𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦! prepare to cry.
· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐈 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍
୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀
▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 sat in her room, alone with tears streaming down her face. Her insecurities got the better of her once again, and she began to cry silently to herself.
She felt like a failure, like she was never good enough for anything or anyone. She felt like she was stuck in a endless loop of disappointment and self-doubt.
There was a knock on her door, causing Chance to jump slightly. She quickly dried her tears and tried to compose herself. "Who is it?" she called out, her voice shaking slightly.
Chance's mom slowly opened the door and peered into the room, her face filled with sympathy.
She had heard the sounds of her daughter's sobs from outside the room and felt a deep sense of concern and motherly devotion. "Are you okay?"
Chance looked up at her mother, her eyes misty with tears. "It's nothing, Mom," she tried to brush it off, not wanting to burden her mother with her problems. But Ms. Rita could sense that there was more to it than that.
"Come on, Chance, I know something's bothering you," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "Is it something that happened at school?"
Chance's shoulders slumped as she heard her mother's question. "Yeah," she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.
Ms. Rita moved closer to her daughter, sitting down on the edge of the bed and setting a comforting hand on Chance's shoulder. "What happened, Chubs?" she asked gently.
Chance took a deep breath, trying to steady her voice. "It's just... People steady bringing up my bullet wound," she said, her voice cracking slightly. "And it just brought back all these memories and insecurities about it, you know?"
Chance whispered, her voice trembling as a tear rolled down her cheek. "I was just a child... I didn't need to be strong, I needed to be safe."
Ms. Rita's heart broke as she heard her daughter's words. She knew that the trauma of the event had left deep scars on Chance's psyche, scars that had never fully healed.
Ms. Rita pulled her daughter into a tight embrace, holding her close as she tried to comfort her. "I know, honey, I know," she murmured, her voice soft and soothing. "But sometimes strength can come from unexpected places, even from pain."
Chance buried her face in her mother's shoulder, feeling the warmth of her embrace and the steady beat of her heart. It was a small comfort in the face of the overwhelming feelings of fear and helplessness.
Ms. Rita continued to hold her daughter close, gently stroking her hair as she spoke. "You know, Chance, you're strong in ways you don't even realize. You've faced so much in your life, and you've come so far."
Chance sniffled and pulled away slightly, looking up at her mother with tear-filled eyes. "But I don't feel strong," she said, her voice quivering. "I feel weak and... broken."
Ms. Rita looked at her daughter with a mixture of sadness and determination. "You're not weak or broken, Chance. You're human. You've been through more than most people ever will, and you're still here. That takes strength."
