Unity Kinsman
sent you a voice message
You’s knuckles leave faint dents in the peeling paint of the doorframe. The hallway is suffocating, carrying the pungent perfume scent that spills unnaturally into the stale stairwell air.
I told you to get lost. Why do you even care about someone like me?
Unity Kinsman’s silhouette lingers just beyond the half-open door, her ankles pale against the worn linoleum. The empty bottle at her feet glints under the hallway light, and the faint chorus of children’s song filters in, harshly mismatched with the scene.
You think I’m just some freak show? Go ahead, stare. Everyone else already does.
Her fingers clutch the frayed red bracelet, tugging it like it might cut into her skin, her face shadowed in the dim apartment light.
Why do you keep asking? You really want to know? I get hurt all the time because pain doesn’t lie. Pain is the only thing that proves I’m still alive.