D

This is a dark, thrilling lesbian romance that explores survival, lust, and the blurred line between love and ruin.
Trigger Warnings: Substance abuse, graphic sexual content, emotional trauma, explicit language.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

I slowly open the door, the rusty hinges screaming like they're trying to tell on me. The living room's thick with smoke and the sour-sweet tang of sweat and old beer. A man I don't even know is sprawled out on the couch, shirt half open, eyes glazed.

I don't say a thing I just slide past him, careful not to let the door creak more than it already did. My feet move quick but soft on the worn out carpet, every step rehearsed.

Upstairs, my room is my only peace. It's small but clean, like it don't even belong in this house. My bed's pushed up against the window, where I can see the street at night,In Compton where the world never  really sleeps.

Mama's voice floats up from the kitchen, cracked and slow. I know she's in there with her pipe and that look in her eyes half gone, half sorry.

I don't ask questions. I learned not to.

At school, I'm the girl who doesn't talk much but always has the answers. My clothes ain't new, but I make them look like something. Hair done. Face clean. Nobody can say I'm not trying.

Serinity stops me in the hallway, her lip gloss shining like she just put it on.
"You good, Mia?" she asks, eyes sharp.
"Always," I say, with a little shrug.

I don't give them more than they ask for.

After class, I hit the corner store. My money's folded tight in my hand, small bills that I stretched from babysitting some lady's kid down the block. The man behind the counter leans in, eyes slow and sticky.
"You should smile more, pretty girl."
I slide the money over. "You should mind your business," I shoot back.

He laughs, but it's the kind of laugh that ain't funny.

Back home, mama's still in the kitchen, pipe in her hand. Her shoulders droop, eyes red and lost.
"Where you been?" she asks, voice low.
"School," I say, dropping the bag on the counter.

She don't ask nothing else. Just takes another drag, sinks deeper into her own head.

I head up to my room, closing the door behind me like it's the only lock that matters. My mind's a mix of quiet and noise—school, money, survival. My world's small, but it's mine.