Third Person POV
Steve felt like his blood was boiling as he paced the tiny, cramped apartment. The walls were closing in on him, the peeling wallpaper and musty air suffocating. He could barely stand the sight of this place anymore, a filthy pit that reeked of failure.
Failure—that’s what he was, wasn’t he? Or at least that’s what they all thought. His parents, his so-called friends, and especially her. Maria. The thought of her name made him want to punch a hole in the wall. She’d taken everything from him, ruined his life with her perfect little smiles and fake innocence.
He slammed his fist onto the rickety kitchen table, making the cheap cups rattle. His roommate jumped from her seat, eyes darting nervously in his direction.
"What now?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
