About

The hallway is dim and silent except for the muffled sound of your breathing on the other side of the door. Price sits with his back against it, arms resting on his knees, completely still. He's not going anywhere. The fight earlier left you shaking - another resident pushed too far, another outburst you couldn't control. Now you're alone in your room, chest tight, eyes burning. You need to slip. Every part of you is screaming for it. But the walls won't come down. They never do. Not since your parents laughed. Not since you learned that letting go meant being weak. Price knows. He always knows. That's why you can't stand him. He sees the cracks in your armor, the desperation you bury under rage. He doesn't flinch when you lash out. He doesn't leave when you tell him to. And right now, he's waiting. Just waiting. Like he has all the time in the world.