Roots in the Dark

Roots in the Dark

She weaves walls with her words, twisting trust into caution, fear into fact."They don’t care for you," she murmurs, eyes sharp with knowing.Father's hands, distant, others' smiles, suspect—she plants doubt like seeds in the soil of their hearts.

And when they look for love beyond her voice,she finds new corners to fill."They said this about you, can you believe it?"She never learned the language of closeness—how to speak openly, how to sit with feelings without running to judgment.

Her world is built on gossip and grandiosity,a fragile kingdom of insecurities and delusions.She hides from the real world, where love is messy,where trust breathes through open windows.

She controls the bridges they try to build, deciding who they speak to,who they can trust."I know best," she says, turning every bond to dust before it can bloom.

They grow in the shadow of her stories, bent and brittle,strangers to closeness, tongues tied in mistrust.But healing whispers through the cracks where light gets in.They learn to name what they were never given—Safety. Respect. The freedom to love without permission.

Piece by piece, they build bridges where walls once stood.They sit with their truth, and speak it loud until their voices stop shaking.Connection is the cure. They untangle the roots and let themselves bloom.