FREYA
Jayden walks away slowly, pulling out a cigarette as he goes. As he lights it, his movements are jerky, and when the first puff of smoke slides past his lips, his shoulders drop, and the hand holding the thin cigarette trembles slightly.
As I watch him take another drag on the drug, I feel a slight wave of concern. Something isn't right. I can tell, and the thought makes my stomach turn.
I'd heard him mutter under his breath as my mother spoke, and I'd seen the despair in his eyes as he lurched away from me. It was all quite unexpected and out of character for him.
"Freya dear, are you still here?" When I hear my mother inquire, I realize I've silently watched Jayden and completely disregarded her. "Is everything alright?" She asks again, and I respond quickly, my gaze still loc
