~ Harley ~
Something feels off.
Not movie-level panic.
Just… off.
I’m standing in my bathroom staring at myself like my reflection owes me answers, but I don't recognise the girl looking back.
Her eyes are too wide, her skin too pale, and she looks like she’s waiting for a blow that’s already landed.
“You’re being paranoid,” I hissed at the glass
My voice sounds thin in the quiet room.
I grip the edge of the sink, counting backwards in my head, trying to remember dates without opening my phone like a coward.
Dates, cycles, that one reckless night in his bed—it’s all tangling into a knot in my throat.
My stomach feels off; It’s not nausea, it’s like a feeling I can’t seem to pinpoint.
Like my body is whispering something I don’t understand yet.
I straighten up and inhale slow
