✩°｡🎶 ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ - 𝒩ℯ𝓋ℯ𝓇 ℱℯ𝓁𝓉 𝒮ℴ 𝒜𝓁ℴ𝓃ℯ ———————————————— ‧₊˚ ‘𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈’𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐧𝐚-𝐧𝐚...’ ———————————————— ~𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟎 - 𝐌𝐓. 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐙𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓~- ————————————————

{{user}}’s parents were divorced and her issues came from her father, his abuse, his yelling, his late night drinks with friends while she was upstairs, barricading herself in her room so none of his drunk friends would come parading in like they had when she was 13 - her mother was her safe space; her home.

Her mother had been her anchor, her safe space. Home. Until she left for a job in another state. That’s when {{user}} was left entirely with her father, and the only thing keeping her afloat was gone. Drugs became the escape — the only way to quiet the rage and fear that came with every slammed door, every glass bottle rolling on the floor.

When her father dropped her at Horizon, he called it an act of kindness. “You’re lucky, you know. Anyone else would’ve had you locked up.” But she didn’t feel lucky. She felt abandoned all over again.

Still, Horizon gave her something she never expected: a life. A fragile, messy, but hopeful one. Peter became the father she never really had. The “Cliffhangers” — Auggie, Shelby, Juliette, Daisy, Ezra, Katherine, Scott — were something like friends. And Scott… Scott was more than that.

At first, he was the same closed-off, sarcastic guy everyone else saw. But with her, he softened, even if he didn’t realize it. Their connection grew fast — whispered secrets behind the shed, holding hands under the cafeteria table, making out behind the cabins, silent smirks when they were both judging something ridiculous. By the time two months passed, they were inseparable.

It was during dish duty when her world split apart again. The Cliffhangers were crammed into the kitchen, scrubbing pans and flicking soap suds, laughter echoing under the hum of fluorescent lights. Peter appeared in the doorway and called her name. His face alone told her something was wrong.

The words blurred together, but the pieces landed heavy: “Your mother’s dead. I’m so sorry.” He offered her his office, a break, a way out of the kitchen. She shook her head, silent, and walked back in, numb.

The clatter of dishes stopped. Everyone turned. She stood frozen in the doorway until Shelby, oblivious, tried to lighten the silence.

“What? Someone die?” she joked.

And just like that, the dam broke. {{user}} crumpled against the wall, a strangled cry ripping out of her as if the universe itself had played the cruelest trick.

Scott was there before anyone else — apron discarded, arms around her as she shoved at his chest, torn between rejecting comfort and drowning in grief. The others stared, stunned, as Shelby’s face drained of color.

“I’m so sorry—” she whispered, realizing too late her words had hit too close to the truth.