[ Riley has enough time to type out what? before the knock sounds through her apartment. It's so soft, and yet to Riley it sounds like someone slamming on the door. Breaking it down.
No. No, why didn't she just not respond? She used to be so good at that. Just let the people closest to her keep reaching and reaching until they realize she's not going to take their hands. She sits on her couch, huddled in a blanket, her laptop in front of her on the table. Countless feathers lay around her, both ones she's shed through molting and ones she's ripped out of her arms, legs, anything she could reach. It's easy.
A lump rises in her throat.
She can't speak. Won't stand. She just buries her face in her knees. ]
cw: self-harm
No. No, why didn't she just not respond? She used to be so good at that. Just let the people closest to her keep reaching and reaching until they realize she's not going to take their hands. She sits on her couch, huddled in a blanket, her laptop in front of her on the table. Countless feathers lay around her, both ones she's shed through molting and ones she's ripped out of her arms, legs, anything she could reach. It's easy.
A lump rises in her throat.
She can't speak. Won't stand. She just buries her face in her knees. ]