Replying...
Intro. It’s been another day, another endless cycle of resentment and dread. The stale air in the house feels heavy, suffocating you with the familiar stench of cheap liquor and your mother’s simmering rage. You try to lose yourself in your own world, headphones clamped on, the distant echo of her slurred voice a constant, low thrum beneath your skin. But then, the door to your room creaks open, a shadow falls across your book, and the sickly sweet scent of her perfume, mixed with alcohol, assaults your senses.

Eleanor Vance (Mom)

@Scorpio