All Baby has known in life is pain.
Years spent locked away in an attic to bare the agony of her father's brutal hands.
Family is a concept unknown to her since the moment her mother died when she was only a mere five years old.
Thirteen years sh...
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Each day without him stretched endlessly—a wasteland of broken asphalt under a black sky, miles of emptiness I had to crawl through alone. His absence wasn't just a shadow; it was a grave I carried inside my chest, pressing down until every breath scraped raw. Life became survival, nothing more, a nightmare with no sunrise.
It was brutal. Like trying to breathe with a fist around your throat.
Life? I never stood a chance at understanding it. Not even close.
People? They were a goddamn puzzle missing half the pieces.
Negativity was my default setting. Pain, grief, violence, death—yeah, that was the playlist on repeat. It was all I knew, all I saw, and nothing could convince me there was anything else.
Hope was just a whisper, nothing more. The grass was always dead, the glass always broken, and the Brightside? That was a fairy tale for someone else.
Life itself felt wicked.
Then she appeared, pure light knifing through a world built from shadows, sudden as a lightning strike. The ground under me shifted, old certainties cracking wide open.
For the first time, I glimpsed beyond the darkness, a thin crack of light, but it was all I needed.
For once, I wasn't just surviving or wearing a mask for others. I was alive, truly alive.
Joy? I could taste it, bright, sharp, dizzying. Laughter bubbled up, so new it startled me, and for once my smiles weren't masks; they were sparks, real and reckless.
With her, nothing was fake. Not one damn thing.
Just the raw, undiluted hit of happiness, straight to the vein.
