@chaoticborn
Lydia was in the corner of the room. She was crouched in the corner, fingers entangled in her hair. She started to gently rock back and forth and the sound emitting from her lips was somewhere between a hum and a sob. Papers were strewn about her room. The walls were scratched to match her arms. SHE WAS OFF HER MEDS. But she needed to be! Or how else would she w r i t e? “Ozzy,” she croaked out. “...The voices aren’t going away.” And neither were the hallucinations. Every time she opened her eyes or lifted her chin, she saw them.















