𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐗 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐄.

four.

❝ Tokyo Highrise. ❞ : 004
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＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ 𝐏𝗛𝗢𝗘𝗡𝗜𝗫 𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗖𝗘 ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

WHEN [NAME] [LAST NAME] RETURNED HOME, the sun held her under another intense gaze, and the skies mixed its hues into sets of scarlet and orange, the colours flourished just like the anger rising in her parents' apartment in Shibuya. That's all she knew: a thunderstorm of quarrels and lightning taking the form of glass shattering.

A life filled with anger and chaos / a double edged sword or even two sides of a coin. And hate is such a weak word to describe how much she loathes the experience.

A gush of wind flares out of her nose, followed by a cupst of unshed tears glossing her eyes; knitted eyebrows, lips cascaded downwards, and alert ears picking up on the faint sounds. It's a storm in there and she knows she's going to be swept away—opening the door—the mess drowns her mind.

The first thing that registers was blood seeping out onto the floor like the dying sunlight pouring into the dim living room, and it's due to the rotting corpse sleeping near mama's fluffy, white carpet. Her gaze then travels onto the duffel bag tossed to the side and spilling out stacks of yen onto the couch. Well, what happened here was a well orchestrated crime done to a pawn but the noise upstairs did not correlate with the issue in front of her.