I must've drifted off at some point because suddenly there was an angry pounding on the door and the apartment room was slightly darker than I remembered.

"Florez!" I suppressed a groan at the sound of David's enraged voice.

"Florez! I know you're in there! And if you don't gimme my rent I'll throw you outa here so fast you won't have time to take any of yer shit with you!" I looked down hopelessly at the wad of money in my hand. It wasn't even enough to cover July's rent.

My heart dropped, and I realized with sinking dread that papá and I were going to be homeless if I didn't do something.

"I'm done being nice, Florez! Open the damn door!" I was left with no choice but to beg and lie and thieve my way through this mess yet again. With a heavy sigh, I stuffed the money into my jacket pocket and rolled out of my hammock. Then wrenched the door open while using a ridiculous amount of willpower to keep the glare off my face and the anger from my voice.

"Sorry, I was asleep." My voice was as sickly sweet as I could manage, but David didn't seem to be buying my act. He jabbed an angry finger at me.

"Don't bullshit me, it's six o'clock. Teenagers don't sleep until four a.m." I almost snapped back at him for that comment, but forced myself to keep up my charade.

"I was tired," I said, shrugging helplessly and leaning against the frame while keeping the door close to my side so I'd block any view of the mess inside. "What do you need?" I knew exactly what he was there for, but I wanted to annoy him at least a little if I had to grovel. And man was I ever successful. David was absolutely fuming.

"The rent you haven't paid since June!" He replied sharply. I didn't even need to force my face into an apologetic grimace.

"Sorry about that. We've been kinda hard on money lately..." Well isn't that the understatement of the year.

"Yeah I bet you are with yer pa gettin' hammered every night." It didn't take much effort for my face to fall and my gaze to drop in embarrassment, either. But it did take quite a bit to keep my anger in check.

"Yeah, it's just how he... deals with things," I murmured quietly, sadly.

"Well unless you wanna deal with getting kicked out too, I suggest you pay up."

"I get my paycheque tomorrow, that's when you'll get your money." It was a both a lie and a declaration, and it left no room open for debate. I shouldn't have spoken to David with such authority, but I had to prove to him I wasn't just a typical teenager that allowed themselves to be bossed around.

Our fierce gazes locked in an intense staring contest, and he narrowed his eyes at me as he leaned in closer.

"If yer pa storms in here hammered all to hell and wakes the whole complex one more time, I'll throw you right outa here with nothin' but the clothes you got on yer backs. Ya get me?"

I nodded curtly and intentionally mocked him in a rude manner. "I got ya."

He grunted. "Good." And the moment he moved to leave I swung the door shut before he could turn and spit something else in my face.

•••

That bastard. I gritted my teeth angrily as I stormed about the apartment, slowly but surely cleaning up the mess papá had created. That selfish, effing bastard! I bit my tongue hard, keeping my cries of annoyance and rage inside and instead punching a pillow as I placed it back on the dilapidated couch.

"I hate him," I muttered, my voice cracking and betraying my misery. I hate him! I hate him! I hate him! But I didn't let my anger out on the pillow again—I was too exhausted to be angry, and too exhausted to want to care anymore.

I dropped onto the couch with a defeated sigh, because it had at last gotten to me. I didn't want to fight anymore. I didn't want to care, or try, or anything. I just wanted it to be over—for it to end, and for things to get better. I felt so drained and hollow and lost and so, so hopeless I could sit right here where I am and never get back up again.

But I pushed away every one of those thoughts before I could get carried too far downstream, because I had to.

I didn't want to. I wanted nothing more in my heart than to just stop.

But I had to. Because what else was there for me? I'd been a criminal since I was five, thieving and stealing for the sake of survival only for it to poison me in return. But I'd been a fighter since my first breath. And I'd never stopped fighting before—not once. So I couldn't stop fighting now. No way in hell would I stop fighting now. Not when papá was still around, and not when there was someone I might hurt. If I stopped now, I'd be leaving papá to fend for his own horrible self, and I might hurt my only possible friend. So I'd continue to fight, and keep the poison at bay. At least for a while longer.

AN: It was kinda hard to pick this story up and keep writing, so I'm not too happy with this chapter but oh well.

Someone in my school had a live duck in their backpack today and the other day my bio teacher walked around showing us a moose heart one of the students gave her. My school's weird af lmao.