“I screwed up my big escape plan by running smack into the middle of a biker gang who now puts motion sensors outside my bedroom. I’m still cooking and cleaning, at least for money now, but I’m hardly saving lives, or advancing world peace, or doing anything even slightly important. I’m thirty years old and I have no prospects, no goals, no family, no friends. I’m an ex-junkie who wasted pretty much every minute of my life so far, one way or another, and I see nothing in my future that gives me hope that the next thirty years will be any better.”
She stopped.
“What else?” he asked her quietly. “Tell me everything.”
“Well…I’m… I keep comparing myself to Zoe and Vixen and…” She exhaled, hard. “And I feel especially pathetic next to them. I feel small and invisible, totally flat-chested an
