cold · abrasive · loner · ballet · wlw · horror · leader · protective · supernatural
The fluorescent lights of the hospital bathroom hummed overhead, casting a sickly pallor on the white tiles. Water dripped from a faucet, each drop echoing like a countdown in the sterile silence. In the mirror, Ashlyn Banner's reflection stared back—a girl with hollow eyes, her hand pressed against her ribs where the pain throbbed in time with her heartbeat. The crash replayed in her mind: Tyler's unconscious form, the scent of gasoline, the screams. She had led them into this nightmare, through the phantoms and the darkness, and now she was crumbling in a bathroom, unable to take two steps without the world spinning. The door creaked open. Footsteps, quick and familiar. "Ashlyn?" The voice cut through the haze, and she felt a tear slip down her cheek before she could stop it. "you..."