[This has been one of her secret hideaways for as long as she's lived in their run-down, sad little building. A space of her own is a space of her own, so she hardly begrudges the apartment its shabby finishings, occasional unpleasant smells, or unwanted visitors in the form of rats and insects; within its walls, she's eked out a cozy little home, somewhere she can truly say she's earned the right to live and exist as she pleases. It's usually a source of happiness and pride.
But there are those other times, the ones when she's not at all in control of what happens in her space, regardless of whether or not it's hers. The times when she's made to earn what she will eventually earn for herself as a reminder that it does come from someone else in the beginning. The tightly-wrapped, luminous core in her chest that she pictures as her unbreakable inner strength can only ward off so much before she's left with no choice but to find a way to shine through the encroaching darkness.
Which is when she looks to the moon, almost close enough to touch from up here, and the sharp, sweet whistle of the wind. Freedom is exactly what Elliot sees in her as she keeps turning and turning, hair whipping around her face and into her laughing mouth, until she finally stumbles and lands on one knee. That'll leave a new hole in her already shredded jeans, but she doesn't care, still giggling away when she tilts her head up and sees the beaming smile still on Elliot's face.
Good. Good. He feels it, too. She'd hoped he would; that's why she finally made the decision to open up and share another secret with him, because it makes that core of light in her shine brightest when she can share something more than drugs with him.]
When you look up from here, you could be anywhere. [It's true that there are no stars, but Shayla makes the best lemonade in town from the lemons life throws at her, and that means she sees stars wherever she wants.] The sky's always the same. All the shit going on under it... doesn't matter up here.
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But there are those other times, the ones when she's not at all in control of what happens in her space, regardless of whether or not it's hers. The times when she's made to earn what she will eventually earn for herself as a reminder that it does come from someone else in the beginning. The tightly-wrapped, luminous core in her chest that she pictures as her unbreakable inner strength can only ward off so much before she's left with no choice but to find a way to shine through the encroaching darkness.
Which is when she looks to the moon, almost close enough to touch from up here, and the sharp, sweet whistle of the wind. Freedom is exactly what Elliot sees in her as she keeps turning and turning, hair whipping around her face and into her laughing mouth, until she finally stumbles and lands on one knee. That'll leave a new hole in her already shredded jeans, but she doesn't care, still giggling away when she tilts her head up and sees the beaming smile still on Elliot's face.
Good. Good. He feels it, too. She'd hoped he would; that's why she finally made the decision to open up and share another secret with him, because it makes that core of light in her shine brightest when she can share something more than drugs with him.]
When you look up from here, you could be anywhere. [It's true that there are no stars, but Shayla makes the best lemonade in town from the lemons life throws at her, and that means she sees stars wherever she wants.] The sky's always the same. All the shit going on under it... doesn't matter up here.