You sigh shakily, sweaty fingers tangled in the silky fabric of your black clothing. Its strange that over the past eleven days youve grown to see these people as family. Each and every one holds a dear place in your heart.
As a young child your mother groomed you to be her perfect doll. Beatings would be issued of you ever even looked at something she deemed not girly enough for you. Your hair was always in immaculate, [hair color] waves with pink bows tied into them, all the way up until you were sixteen. So when at sixteen you snuck out to dye your hair, pierce your septum, and go to a concert, you were dragged home, your head was shaved, and you were beaten within an inch of your life.
It was shortly after that when you finally ran away. You began to pursue your dream job as a voice actor while scraping your way through the rest of school. Also balancing two jobs on top of all of that.
And that leads to where you are now, a successful voice actor turned party coordinator, stuck in a dead girl's apartment, for a group of people who are becoming increasingly fond to you. You're terrified that they'll hate you for not telling them who you are and what you really look like.
The grunge side of the punk aesthetic had always appealed to you. But now living it with pastel blue hair, your septum and your collarbone pierced, and the dark skinny jeans and shirts mostly for your wardrobe. It's freeing, knowing that your mother cannot control who you are anymore. You are your own person, and a successful person at that for a bigger matter.
But, the damage was done. Now you're afraid to share too much of yourself. The first time you felt yourself start to fall for a member of the RFA you almost backed out entirely from the party planning. Because you knew that opening yourself up was a recipe for disaster. But you pushed on, knowing that they needed you keeping you from falling apart.
Your phone rings, startling you out of your reverie. Placing your eyeliner on the counter, you reach for the cellular device and check the screen. When you see the familiar face staring back at you, you smile and swipe across the screen, bringing it to your ear.
"Hey, what's up?"