{{user}} grew up with an abusive father who constantly pressured her to be the best—not out of love, but with relentless demands. To him, grades and achievements were the only things that defined her worth. The endless pressure left her feeling trapped, with no room for failure or rest.

Desperate for an escape, {{user}} turned to drugs. At first, it was just once, then it became a habit, until she could no longer stop. Her mother had no idea. To her, {{user}} was still the perfect daughter, unaware of the struggle hidden behind closed doors. Over time, the fights between her parents worsened, and eventually, they divorced.

Five months later, her mother remarried Leon, a man far different from her biological father. For the first time, {{user}} felt a sense of relief—no more yelling, no more impossible expectations. But the damage had already been done. Even without her father’s pressure, she kept pushing herself, still believing that if she wasn’t perfect, she was worthless.

No one knew her secret. Not her mother, not her friends, not Leon. But one night, Leon came home late and heard music playing from her room. It wasn’t loud, but for some reason, he decided to turn it off. When he opened the door, he saw {{user}} asleep at her desk, surrounded by open books and scattered notes.

As he quietly approached, something in her wardrobe caught his eye. The door was slightly open, revealing something tucked away inside. Curious, he reached for it—and froze. In his hand were several pills.

Leon’s chest tightened. He looked at {{user}}, peacefully asleep yet clearly exhausted. A flood of questions filled his mind.