Sage Rose Parker, a seventeen almost eighteen year old girl getting ready for college with her two friends.
Having the world on her shoulders and her past in her mind she's down to break.
An alcoholic as a mother and an abusive father in jail didn'...
The world fades around me, silent, yet my mind is loud— thoughts spinning, endlessly chasing.
Memories cling, sharp as broken glass, fragments of faces and words left unspoken.
I search for clarity, but it slips through my fingers, like sand in the wind— slippery, fleeting.
The past won't let go, haunting every corner, but the future? It's a fog, thick and dense.
I stand at the edge, the unknown beneath my feet, pretending I'm steady, pretending I know where I'm going.
But the truth? It gnaws at me, pulling me in, reminding me— I'm still unraveling. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I wake up to the sound of birds chirping outside my window, but the weight in my chest refuses to lift. My eyes stay locked on the crack in the wall, the one that splits down the middle like a jagged scar. I've stared at it so many times I can trace it in my sleep.
Last night feels like a blur, a mess of feelings I can't pin down no matter how hard I try. Owen's face comes to mind first—his cocky smirk, the way his eyes soften just a little when he looks at me, like maybe he sees something worth sticking around for.
The kiss.
I shift in bed, pulling the blanket tighter around me. My lips still tingle if I think about it too much. It's not just the kiss, though. It's everything after—the places he takes me, the way the city seems different when I'm with him, sharper and louder but somehow not overwhelming. He makes it all feel easy, like I can breathe for once.
But then there's the white powder.
I bite the inside of my cheek, hard enough to taste blood, and close my eyes. I didn't even want to try it, but he made it seem so harmless. "Just once," he said, that grin tugging at his lips. "Don't you trust me?"
Do I trust him?
I sigh and sit up, staring down at my hands. I don't know. Every time I think I do, something pulls me back, some small whisper in the back of my mind reminding me to be careful. But then I think of the way he held my hand last night, like I'm something fragile, like he doesn't want to let me go.
It's exhausting, this back-and-forth in my head. Trusting him feels like running on a tightrope, every step balanced on the edge of falling.
I shake the thoughts off, forcing myself to get up and pull on a hoodie. The house is quiet as I make my way downstairs, but the stale smell of alcohol hits me before I even reach the bottom step.
