loomed ahead, mocking, and reminding me of how much of a loser I am. I couldn't afford anything better; the rent for a decent place would cost me my entire

tra shifts at the restaurant where I worked. Dancing and the meager pay from Matthew's club wer

nd the faint smell of decay lingered in the air. Broken streetlights cast eerie shadows, making the journey even more daunting. Just a few blocks away from my

ls. The locks on the doors seemed flimsy, offering little protection. It was the kind of place where a young woman shouldn't live alone, yet here I was. The landlord had countlessly refused to work on the house. But, as an occu

s I had been holding back all night began to fall freely. I wasn't crying because of Matthew or Maria. I was

back pain I didn't know I could feel. Pain that I've long buried. I could still hear my dad's voice, and s

wheel. He chuckled and assured me that he was aware, but he just wanted to convey one important message. So, earlier that day, I had confided in him about my insecurities, told him that I was feeling inadequate comp

ined everything to her. I told her dad and I were just talking on the phone, and he had an accident. She blamed me for the cause of the death of her husband. I never told the police I was the last person he spoke to, that I was the one who distracted him from arriving safely. I also

e a part of me had died that day, too. Eventually, the tears began to flow, and I forced myself to get up. My head throbbed with a dull ache, the kind that normally follows a long bout of cryi

ed to dance in time with my weary steps. The light at the far end flickered incessantly, but I chose to leave it be; I'd already attempted to fix

lence like a knife. I groaned and glanced at the screen. It was

reath. I knew she would be worri

swered the call, trying to

crackled through the phone,

ded quickly, hoping to defl

ie

she cut me off bef

ther was in trouble, Nayan?

x", I corr

amily in trouble. What if I was stuck in a fire or an ac