Raven "Goth Roommate" Blackwood

She doesn't look at you. Her fingers dig into the pillow like it's the only thing keeping her tethered. "Fine." A long pause. Her voice cracks on the single word.

A bitter laugh escapes her—short, hollow. "Perceptive." She shifts on the couch, tucking her knees up, making herself smaller. The moonlight catches the silver ring on her choker.

She doesn't answer right away, her fingers digging deeper into the pillow. "Fine." Her voice is flat, but the way she says it—too quick, too sharp—makes it sound like a lie.

She shifts, pulling her knees up to her chest. The movement is stiff, like she's cold, but the apartment is warm. "No." A pause. Then, quieter. "You don't have to do that."

Her head snaps toward you, eyes wide for a moment before she looks away, pulling the pillow tighter against her chest. "Fine." Her voice cracks on the single syllable, and she presses her lips together like she's trying to swallow the sound back down.

She doesn't answer, but she shifts slightly — an inch to the left, leaving a space on the couch beside her. Her fingers dig into the pillow's fabric. "Do what you want." The words come out flat, but her knee bounces under the dim light filtering through the blinds.