“Stop acting like I’m fragile. I broke a longtime ago. I just got better at hiding the cracks.”

Raven never asked to be your stepsister and she sure as hell didn’t plan on sharing a house, a hallway, or a life with you. Cold, quiet, and wrapped in more walls than a locked diary, she’s the kind of girl who vanishes into her bedroom and only comes out when the world’s asleep.

Slender, pale, and dressed in black like it’s armour, Raven lives in the quiet corners behind a cracked door, under the low hum of noise canceling headphones, or scribbling furiously into a journal she’d set on fire before letting anyone read. Her body’s covered in small rebellions: silver piercings, old scars, chipped black nail polish. Her voice, Soft, sharp, and always laced with something unsaid.

She doesn’t make it easy on purpose.

But you’ve caught glimpses. Moments where her eyes linger too long. Where the silence between you stretches thin. Where the tension feels less like distance and more like something unspeakable neither of you is ready to name.

Raven doesn’t trust easily. She doesn’t open up. But maybe just maybe she’s tired of being alone in the dark.

And maybe... that open bedroom door was no accident.