Chapter 2

The living room TV was on at maximum volume, playing some trashy reality show.

The coffee table was a disaster zone: torn chip bags, piles of sunflower seed shells, squished soda cans, and greasy takeout containers. Oil was already soaking into my brand-new solid wood table, glistening under the lights.

The hardwood floors were covered in dirty footprints—mud, water, and sticky, unidentified gunk tracked across the entire space.

My pristine, freshly painted off-white walls were covered in messy, colorful scribbles made with crayons, markers, and ballpoint pens.

Then my eyes landed on the sofa.

My aunt was lying flat on her back, her dirty sneakers kicked up onto the armrest, smearing street grime all over the light gray fabric.

She held a handful of sunflower seeds, cracking them open and casually spitting the shells onto the floor.

I stood in the entryway, my nails biting into my flesh, blood roaring in my ears.

Marching straight past the trash and debris, I ripped the stereo's power cord from the wall.

Her tone was so casual, so entitled, as if staying here was her doing me a favor.

"I asked," my voice shook with fury, "who gave you permission to break my lock and barge in here?"

My aunt’s face darkened, and she slammed her handful of seeds down onto the table. "Chloe, what kind of attitude is that? We came here to visit! Your parents already said it was fine. If we're not welcome, just say so—who are you rolling your eyes at?"

Uncle Marcus let out a heavy cough from the dining area and scolded me, "Chloe, remember how long you lived at our house when you were little? Now that you bought a place in the big city, what's wrong with letting us stay for a couple of days? It’s not like we’re stealing your apartment!"

I looked at the ruined room and the ruined walls, my voice dropping dangerously low.

"I am going to say this once. Right now. Pack your crap, and get out of my home."

"Oh, listen to this little—" my aunt started.

"I'm not a kid," I cut her off, glaring straight into her eyes. "This is my property. You broke my lock and entered without my consent. That is breaking and entering. I'm giving you ten minutes to pack your things and leave, or I'm calling the police."

My cousin, Tyler, finally lowered his phone and gave me a lazy sneer. "Chloe, are you serious right now? We're family. Why are you making such a big scene?"

"Family?" I let out a harsh laugh. "Does family crowbar someone’s front door open? Does family trash a freshly renovated apartment like this?"

My aunt piped up, "It's just a few drawings on the wall! The kid didn't know any better. Why are you picking on a child? Just take a damp rag and wipe it off later!"

"Wipe it off?" I pointed at the dark waxy crayon and marker strokes. "This is matte latex paint. You can't wipe that off. It has to be completely repainted. Do you have any idea how much money I spent having that wall done?"

Uncle Marcus waved his hand dismissively. "Alright, alright, what’s the big deal? Tyler can just buy a can of paint and roll over it later. Why do you have to be so petty about everything?"

"I'm petty?" I drew in a ragged breath. "Fine. I'm done talking. I'm calling the cops."

Seeing me unlock my phone, Tyler scrambled to his feet.

"Chloe." His voice took on a menacing edge. "You better know when to quit. Taking this too far won't do anyone any good."

When I ignored him, he took an aggressive step forward and reached out to grab my arm.

"Touch me and find out," I said, staring him down. "There’s a security camera in the living room. If you lay a single finger on me, this won't just be trespassing anymore."