𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 [𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐚𝐮]

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Fanfiction

genevieve porter is an insomniac who's had trouble falling asleep and staying asleep ever since she's been in the foster care system. she barely sleeps a wink most nights- maybe getting only an hour or two a night, and nothing has helped that. the...

#brutal #driverslicense #ginaandricky #highschool #highschoolmusicalthemusicaltheseries #hsmtmts #joshuabassett #love #ricky #rickyandnini #rickybowen #rickybowenxoc #rina #rini #sofiawylie #sour #traitor

𝐎𝐍𝐄

Start from the beginning

by babyblinker

"Good." Her foster sister resumed the smile as the two girls coasted down the highway and eventually to In-N-Out, and then home.

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Gina bit her lip, elbows sinking into her bed as she viewed the Leopards' drama club Instagram at three in the morning— she could probably just try out for the ensemble. She could dance just well enough, and hopefully she could go unnoticed for the entirety of production.

Although she did love Beauty and The Beast...When they first moved to New York her mother had saved up for months so they could see it on Broadway. They were really far away from the stage but Gina could feel the energy of the performance pulsing through her body all the same.

Stop. Stop now. Gina pinched her inner thigh as she tried desperately to push the thought of her mom far out her head. It would get way too painful to think about how much it would hurt Mama if she didn't give this her all, but how could she? She hadn't danced in years; it was easier to push dance away than to wallow in the pain it caused to heart.

Lord, Roz is gonna be the death of me.

The sharp pain to her thigh could only do so much to alleviate the pain of her heart. More pain. She thought, searching her top drawer as she was plagued with guilt. She couldn't just fade into the background. It's not what Mama would've wanted.

She was still as flexible as she was then right? Back when she was a dancer? Still as light on her toes and agile? She liked to think so. She boxed regularly, and the treadmill in the Carmichael's gym was in constant use during all hours of the night when she got the urge to run. She guessed she probably had a lot of pent up energy itching to leave her body, but she always chose to ignore the thoughts around that idea until it was the wee hours of the morning.

When she finally pulled the blade from her solid mahogany nightstand, she let it scrape into her flesh until she was drawing blood, leaving three long lines on her wrist.

It hurt.

Like hell. But it was better than having to deal with the thoughts in her head.

Screw it.