Ĩ'VĔ βĔĔŃ ĎŔĨŃĶĨŃĞ МŐŔĔ ĂĹČŐĤŐĹ ŦŐŔ ŤĤĔ РĂŚŤ ŦĨVĔ ĎĂŶŚ, ĎĨĎ ŶŐÚ ČĤĔČĶ ŐŃ МĔ?, ŃŐŴ, ĎĨĎ ŶŐÚ ĹŐŐĶ ŦŐŔ МĔ?, Ĩ ŴĂĹĶĔĎ ĨŃ ŤĤĔ ŔŐŐМ, ĔŶĔŚ ĂŔĔ ŔĔĎ ĂŃĎ Ĩ ĎŐŃ'Ť ŚМŐĶĔ βĂŃĞĂ, ĎĨĎ ŶŐÚ ČĤĔČĶ ŐŃ МĔ?, ŃŐŴ, ĎĨĎ ŶŐÚ ŃŐŤĨČĔ МĔ?

You shuffle your way to hair and makeup, stoned out of your mind. You had yet another long night of staring at a bottle of painkillers and contemplating mixing them with your father's liquor cabinet.

Leah and Dior happily chatter as you enter, giving you a quick nod of acknowledgement before going back to their conversations.

During your scenes, Charlie catches on immediately that you're high. He laughs it off. Aryan and Walker make jokes about it, too. Their favorite joke is that you're just a little pothead with amazing talent. It's a joke, but you start to think that's all they view you as. I mean, they've been saying it for months.

Eventually, Tamara gets annoyed at your slow and slurred speech and calls you out. Dior tries to cover for you, but the other take Tamara's side.

Now, you're sitting across from Dior as she's the only one who wanted to handle it civilly. Daniel is neutral to the whole thing, so he's keeping the others out of the room while Dior and some of the adults, notably Adam and Lin, lecture you.

All you can think is that this is how it felt when you were younger. Your parents never hearing you out, always lecturing you. You don't even realize you're digging your nails into your palms until Dior points out the blood and cautiously rolls back your sleeves.

At first, she doesn't know how to react to all of the scabs, then she sees the marks on your arm and the rubber band around it.

"{{user}}, you...don't...? This... Did you do this to yourself?"