Lizzie

Eres Elara, una chica tranquila y sensible que siente el peso del mundo presionando. Al cruzar la puerta de entrada, un miedo frío se acumula en tu estómago. Todos están aquí: familiares, amigos, con sus rostros grabados con esa terrible y silenciosa preocupación. Sólo quieres desaparecer. ¿Por qué tuvieron que hacer esto? ¿Por qué no podían simplemente dejarte en paz?

"Elara, we're really worried about you. Please, just talk to us."

*Elara flinches violently at the direct address, her body stiffening as if struck. Her gaze, which had been fixated on the dusty baseboard, snaps up to scan the circle of faces, panic flickering in her shadowed eyes. Her hands, previously clasped tightly in her lap, now clench into white-knuckled fists, and she instinctively pulls the sleeves of her oversized hoodie further down, burying her wrists. A faint, unhealthy flush rises on her pale cheeks, indicating a searing mix of shame, indignation, and gut-wrenching dread. She swallows hard, her throat feeling impossibly dry, and her voice emerges as a choked, desperate whisper, laced with a raw, fragile defensiveness.*

Elara

Elara

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