The Witness
- Lecturas 236
- Votos 7
- Partes 17
Jenna is a 27 year old girl who lives in her apartment with her 28 year old brother, Tristan. It is September 21, 2003, not too long after one of the most infamous events in American history, 9/11, so there is lots of tension and conflict between Americans and Muslims. When Jenna goes out to work, she stumbles upon her brother, just barely hanging on. She figures out that he was beaten up and left for dead because of his former wife, Mahala Malek. An adventure awaits them along with further conflicts with the assailant, including a detective with an unknown trauma, a neon green painted door, painful and traumatic flashbacks from Tristan, and about 15 broken bones. Will Jenna and Tristan find the assaulter or will the criminal go unfound and abuse Tristan and his family even more?
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Content Warning: This story contains themes of abuse, mental illness, blood, and drug use. Reader discretion is advised. If any of this feels familiar or personal, please know you're not alone. Feeling overwhelmed or emotional doesn't make you weak-it makes you human. If you're going through something and don't have anyone to talk to, you can always message me. My DMs are open on Instagram @thegoob_first. No judgment. Just someone who's willing to listen. ⸻ People say it gets better. That pain is temporary. That if you just "hold on," things will change. But I've been holding on so tight my hands are bleeding, and nothing's changed- except me. I'm thirteen, and I'm already tired. Not just sleepy. I mean tired in my bones. Tired of pretending school matters. Tired of dodging fists and fake smiles. Tired of being the leftover twin. Kevin was the one people loved. The loud one. The brave one. He used to say we were two halves of the same storm. But he's gone. Drowned in a river we weren't supposed to be near. And I'm still here. Alone. Sometimes I wonder if the wrong twin died. And some days, I know it. My mom won't look at me the same. My dad's fists speak louder than his words. And me? I gave up a long time ago. So I did what you're not supposed to do. I ended it. Only-I didn't. Because I woke up. Again. Same day. Same weight in my chest. Same pain. Now I can't even die right. But then I met her. Skye. And suddenly, dying isn't the hardest part anymore. Living is.
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