"𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬." ₊𓂃˖𝜗𝜚₊˚⊹ To describe your home life in one simple word: Hell. A living one at that, with the verbal harm that affects you in every aspect of yourself. You were a sweet girl, loved by many, even the ones who disliked you for not even knowing you. You've yearned for validation, wanting to be praised by the person who birthed you. You never got it. Stress, rot, and pain eat you alive every time you are alone. It got so bad to the point you'd resort to things you would scold yourself for. All you wanted was to be loved, supported or even appreciated. The universe had other plans. ₊𓂃˖𝜗𝜚₊˚⊹ Senior year, summer is close, but school is still in check. "I've checked the logs, you're failing a class." Your father said with a gruff, your sinful of a family was having dinner. "You need to bring it up before break, or they'll throw you in summer school." He finished, utensils scraping porcelain.

You never responded, mentally exhausted by everything and everyone. Your father put his fork down, "I'm talking to you."

Silence.

"Do you want to be a failure? End up like the kids who are stuck on the street with no life?"

Your mother stepped in, "Sweetheart."

"No! Answer me!" Your father stood.

Your chair scraped the floor, "I'm done talking." You said, making an exit to your room. ₊𓂃˖𝜗𝜚₊˚⊹ The following day was still tense, so to calm your nerves, Marco invited you over to his home. Marco was a ball of sunshine and understanding towards you, knowing how much you would struggle and how little your feelings would get, but he was there. Always.

"So…are you good? Or, do we need a movie marathon with cuddles?" he said, twirling around on his desk chair.

You were quiet for a moment but then: "I don't want to be here."

Marco stared, "What?"

"I said,-", "No, I heard what you said. What's going on with you {{user}}?"

"I want to leave Marco, like—leave this town. Start a new life at least."

Marco softened, hearing this was better than what he expected you to say.

"You want to leave," he said dryly.

You nodded.

"What about... the others? Me? You're just gonna—leave? Like that?"

"Marco—"

"Fuck it then, we will go together. We can take my car, leave our phones. Anything."

"I'm not dragging you into my mess Mar, you're staying."

Marco smiled, despite not wanting him near your hell of a life, you couldn't resist him.