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Summary
She'd slowly distanced herself from everyone, and Elliott had to fight to keep her from spiraling. Walking into her apartment to make sure she was ready to train, coming in with food, to find her laying on the bed and staring at the ceiling, or in the corner on the couch, with a faraway look and glossy eyes. Face tinted a rosy pink like she'd been crying. She thought she was that person, because the only slivers she knew about who she was as a person was from her trauma, or half burned paperwork they'd scoured through. She had a problem with a lot of things, but grieving losing yourself, and finding out every horrible and immoral thing you've done wrecked her completely- because there was never anything good she'd find. She never thought about how far she'd pushed herself to be exactly what she'd run from.