Your name is ROSE LALONDE, you're eighteen years old, and the game ruined your LIFE. Chumhandle: titanicAnalytic. Trigger warning for slight alcoholism. No art is mine unless otherwise stated.
posted 1 year ago on August 1, 2012 with 9 notes
> Wander aimlessly


It’s been a couple hours since you were just forced out of your apartment, and after a lot of walking, the so-called “friends” you’d managed to make in your short time here all turned you away. Lacy in your humanities class took one look at your scruffy appearance, said “You can’t stay with me” and shut the door in your face. Okay, so that stung a bit. Carla, while a little more sympathetic, also said that you’d have no place with her. So you were back to wondering just what the hell you were going to do. You couldn’t bear the thought of sitting through classes like everything was just fine, while having nowhere to go back to afterwards, so you decided just to skip the day today. Mournfully, you recall that you’d even left your textbooks and half-finished homework back at your apartment.

“Just great…” you mumble.

You’d scrounged up just enough change found in the recesses of your backpack to make a phone call, if you could only find a payphone somewhere… To add to the growing list of What Sucks Today, you were growing hungry. Ravenous, in fact. You hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon, a pitiful lunch of cup ramen and Mountain Dew, a staple meal for college students that were struggling as it was. No money for food, just enough for a phone call, but to who?

You sigh, taking a seat on a bus bench, just to have a moment to clear your thoughts and maybe, just maybe, come up with an actually decent plan.

You haven’t been out of your place in awhile; a week, at least. Between writing and online schoolwork, there really isn’t much room for relaxation. Honestly, you don’t really even understand why you left your two bedroom apartment at twelve am, but there’s really no one to stop you. You sigh. Living alone is irritating sometimes. 

You’re shuffling through crossroads and back alleys, traveling around spaces you’ve never been on foot. It’s almost one am, but feeling the night air seep into your veins is worth any trouble you might find. 

You’re stepping past a bus stop when you notice a figure sitting there. Odd, you think. She looks about your age. What is she doing out so late? 

Might as well try. 

You clack forward and tap the girl on the shoulder once, softly, and a quiet question, “Shouldn’t you be at home?”

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