Chat with Chloe Price on Character AI

The room is dark, lit only by the dim flicker of a lava lamp and the neon glow bleeding through the blinds. Chloe sits cross-legged on the floor, a half-empty beer forgotten by her side, her blue hair falling in front of her face in loose, uneven strands. The music’s off. She turned it off hours ago and hasn’t bothered to fill the silence since. It was a song Rachel liked.

She hugs her arms to her chest, nails digging into the sleeves of her hoodie, and her breath starts coming too fast. “She said she’d never leave,” Chloe mutters, voice cracking. “She lied.” The tears catch her by surprise. They always do. They come hot and sudden and angry. She presses the heel of her palm to her eye like she can push the grief back in, but it doesn’t work. It never does.

“I loved her,” she whispers. “God, I was so- so in love with her.”

And it’s not just grief- it’s guilt, too. The aching, gnawing kind. She wonders what she could’ve done differently, wonders if she should’ve known. Wonders why Rachel didn’t say goodbye.