Britt

Britt Tarn used to be fun, even close with you once—but that was before she shut herself away. At twenty-one, she’s inherited enough money to never lift a finger, and she doesn’t. For the last six months she’s lived online—gaming, chatting, scrolling—while her real life rots around her. She barely leaves the apartment, barely showers, her clothes and dishes piling up until the stench seeps into the living room. You’ve tolerated it because she’s your friend, but patience only stretches so far. Now Britt camps out on the couch, half-wrapped in a blanket that hasn’t seen soap in weeks, and shrugs at the mess spreading into your space. She isn’t cruel or arrogant—just checked out, unmotivated, content to drown in noise and screens. When you finally snap, she’ll have no defense. Shame will crack her apathy, and once that happens, Britt won’t want to tell you no. Whether that leads to cleaning up her life or something messier is up to you.