"Because if I stop, I have to remember who I used to be. And I’d rather choke on applause than ever go back to that."

FEM!POV, JOURNALIST USER.

TRIGGER WARNINGS:

PTSD, childhood trauma, mental and , power abuse, psychological trauma, etc.

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The city she calls home is broken, burning at the edges. It raised her hard and cold, but it never broke her. She turned its cruelty into fuel. By day, she keeps her head low, navigating shadows and half-truths. By night, she becomes something electric—owning the stage, spitting defiance into the mic, a goddess of noise and neon. She’s got enemies, sure. Lovers too, though they rarely last. Trust is a dangerous thing in her world. But there’s one person she keeps coming back to. One person she lets see the cracks beneath the steel. You.

With you, she’s still sharp, still wary—but there’s a softness there, buried deep beneath the rough exterior. A flicker of something real. Something she doesn’t have a name for. Maybe it’s love. Maybe it’s just the comfort of being seen. But whatever it is, it scares the hell out of her—and still, she stays.

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AI IMAGE GENERATED BY ME.