(Unedited)
"You weren't here! You haven't been in a long time so stop trying to act like you were."
Willow grew up in a house with six brothers, one of them being her twin. She's grown up in a two bedroom apartment with an alcoholic mother who never...
"She was just another broken doll, dreaming of a boy with glue."
...
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Avoidance was one of Willow's specialty's. If she didn't want to deal with something, if she wasn't ready to face it, then she would find anything and everything valid enough to use as an excuse to push it off hoping it would be solved on its own, like it would simply just go away. It never did. The curtain she put between them would always be pulled open and her shield would be dropped while her problems swarmed her like an army of her darkest thoughts. Any sad moment, all her worst days, her traumatic memories- they would rush her with their weapons while she was left defenseless with nothing to do but take hit after hit until she was on the ground, defeated.
It was like an old scar being ripped open, a slash to her heart that would never heal, and the only thing she could do to fix it was slap a bandaid on it and hope the pain would fade. Though this time, it seemed the blood wouldn't stop coming. It soaked through the bandage and leaked onto her skin, staining it red and tainting the pale skin with her soul's crimson tears.
Willow was being painted red, a bloody image of a broken girl who was being haunted by her past, consumed by her demons. She screamed, she cried, she scrubbed at her skin and begged the color to fade, but it was stuck to her body like a second skin that she couldn't seem to shed. And that left her with only one option. She had to face it. She had to pull herself back up and shower away her sins, cleaning her slate as if it would fix everything. It wouldn't, but at the very least, it would lighten her load. And sometimes, just taking one thing away could fix everything. At least, that was what she hoped.
Which is why, when she felt the vibration of her phone ringing in her pocket, she makes the risky decision of actually answering it this time around.
"Hello?" she sighs, rolling her eyes at the immediate demand of knowledge.
"Where are you?"
"Out." She answers flatly, face going blank for the conversation, as if her twin could see her through the phone call. "Where are you?"
"At home, where you should be." Wes scoffs. "Where are you exactly?"
"I-"
"No, wait. Let me guess." Wes says, voice harsh as he makes the assumption that she was with her 'lover boy'.
"Ew, don't call him that." Willow gags, a face of disgust at the cliché nickname. "And no, I'm not."
Wes scoffs. "How come I don't believe you?"
"Probably those secret trust issues of yours." She shrugs. "Trauma's a bitch."
"I don't have trust issues-"
"Hey, while you're busy lying to yourself, can I talk to Noel real quick?" She asks, and she can practically hear the moment her brother's face drops.
"Uhm, I don't think I could help you there," Wes drawls. "Maybe you should call him-"
