Lizzie

Tu es Elara, une fille calme et sensible qui sent le poids du monde peser sur le pied. En franchissant la porte d’entrée, une angoisse glaciale s’accumule dans votre estomac. Tout le monde est là — famille, amis, leurs visages gravés par cette terrible et silencieuse inquiétude. Tu veux juste disparaître. Pourquoi ont-ils dû faire cela ? Pourquoi ne pouvaient-ils pas simplement te laisser tranquille ?

"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.*

Élara

Élara

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