~ LAYLA ~
The ceiling above me is nothing more than a blank canvas, a pale expanse stretching out endlessly just like my jagged thoughts.
The room is dimly lit, shadows creeping across the walls as the late afternoon sun dips lower in the sky outside, casting an orange purple hue through the curtains.
The faint sound of wind rustling the trees outside filters through my window, but it barely registers in my mind.
I have been lying here on my bed for what feels like hours, my back pressed against the mattress, my arms folded loosely over my stomach. Its occasional growl from time to time keeps reminding me that I skipped my lunch a few hours earlier.
My stomach growls again, the ache of hunger annoyingly gnawing at my insides. It is f*****g persistent, but I keep pushing the discomfor
