Paper Walls

Cleo sat on the edge of her bed, staring blankly at the faded photographs lining her walls. Each frame held a memory that felt like a lifetime ago, a moment of happiness before the darkness closed in. Just a few months had passed since her mother succumbed to cancer, leaving behind a gaping hole in their family. With her father long gone, Cleo found herself the reluctant head of their little household, burdened with the weight of responsibility for her youngest sister, Lily, and her older brother, Ethan.

Loneliness has a strange way of creeping in when you're left with nothing but your own company. It feels like a heavy silence that fills the air, a space too big for just one. One is a number, but it carries the weight of emptiness-an isolation that stretches far beyond its simplicity. And sometimes, even with two, the void remains. Togetherness can feel as empty as being alone, reminding you that loneliness is more about connection than proximity.

Ethan tried his best to step up, but the loss of their mother had hit him hard. He often disappeared for days at a time, seeking solace in the chaos of the world outside their front door. Cleo knew he was struggling; she could see it in his tired eyes and the way he sometimes forgot to come home for dinner. The sting of "no" hit just as hard as the silence of one. It was a finality that echoed with sadness, a closed door they hadn't chosen. And even when she found herself saying "yes" to the responsibilities of adulthood, that sadness lingered, a reminder of what they had lost.

It was during one of those restless evenings, filled with uncertainty and lingering grief, that Deimos entered their lives more prominently. Cleo had known Deimos as Ethan's best friend for years. He was a boxer, both fierce and gentle, a paradox that intrigued her. With his chiseled physique and tattoos that told stories of battles fought both inside and outside the ring, Deimos carried an aura of strength that drew her in.