A Billion Reasons To Hate You

Chapter Seven: Express Train To Hell.

Renee’s chest was still pounding when she reached the door. She leaned into the peephole, and the second she saw him, something in her just snapped.

Evan.

Again.

He stood in the hallway, hoodie clinging to his damp frame, shifting from foot to foot like his nerves were set on fire. His lip was split, crusted with dried blood, and his eyes were darting everywhere — over her door, down the corridor, back to the stairwell. Paranoid. Jittery. Like he expected someone to follow him.

Renee’s hand tightened on the handle. Seeing his face again made her blood boil, her tolerance for parasitic exes paper-thin at this point.

She yanked the door open, glaring at him. “Are you f*****g kidding me right now?” Her voice cut through the silence in the hallway. “What the f**k do you want this time?”

Evan’s hand shot up to his face, scratching along his jaw before dragging across the back of his neck, restless and erratic like his skin didn’t fit right. “Ren… please,” he stammered. “I just… I just need ten K, and then I’ll leave you alone. Forever. I swear.”

Renee blinked, then let out a short, angry laugh that didn’t even sound like her.

“Ten f*****g thousand dollars?” she barked, her chest heaving as she stepped closer. “What the f**k goes through that fried little brain of yours that makes you think I’d give you that kind of money?”

Her voice dropped, cold and unapologetic. “What the hell do you even need it for?”

Evan hesitated, licking at the blood on his split lip, eyes darting up to hers for the briefest second before shifting away again. “I… I owe someone,” he muttered, scratching harder at his neck until the skin there turned red. “Ten grand. If I don’t pay, they’re gonna hurt me.” He gestured to his busted lip and the swelling around his jaw. “They already beat me up once. Took everything I had.”

Renee’s glare didn’t waver. There wasn’t a trace of compassion in her eyes, not an ounce of care in the way she looked at him.

“Drugs,” she said flatly, like she already knew the answer. “f*****g drugs? After everything I told you about my dad?”

His paranoia spiked, words tumbling out too fast and messily. “It’s not like that,” he insisted, shaking his head hard, his hoodie slipping off one shoulder. “I’m not addicted, Ren, I swear. It’s just… everything got too much. I cracked, okay?” He continued to protest. “I went out with some mates, we got f****d up, and I started gambling. I thought I could win it back, so I borrowed money — just enough to cover what I lost.” He scrubbed a hand down his face, voice breaking on the last word. “And I lost that, too. It’s out of control. I can’t fix it. Please… please help me.”

Renee’s jaw clenched until pain shot up her temples, her nails cutting into her palms. Adrenaline flooded her system, drowning out reason, every thought burning beneath the weight of years of resentment clamping down on her like metal jaws.

She bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted iron, forcing herself to breathe through her nose—slow, deep, steady. Anything to keep from snapping, from wrapping her hands around Evan’s throat and squeezing until his face matched the purple bruises under his eyes.

“Not today, Satan,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes in disgust. “You’re not worth the criminal record.” Her voice stayed calm and steady as she slammed the door in his face.

Evan froze on the other side before slamming his palms against the wood. “Ren! Please! Just this once, please! I’ll pay you back, I swear to God!”

She turned her back to the door and walked away, ignoring the pounding.

The banging grew louder until a door burst open down the hall.

“f*****g STOP BANGING,” a deep German voice roared, “OR I’LL COME SMASH YOUR HEAD IN!”

There was a brief pause before Evan’s footsteps retreated fast down the corridor. A door slammed somewhere below, the echo reverberating through the stairwell until the silence finally settled.

Renee exhaled, slow and uneven, pressing her hands against her face. She double-checked the lock once, twice, three times, before dragging herself to the bedroom.

She collapsed into bed, limbs heavy, pulling the blanket up over her body and face. Her eyes stung, her throat dry, but sleep dragged her under anyway.

It didn’t last.

Her nightmares weren’t filled with monsters; they were filled with flashes of the future she was terrified to face. Her mom slipping away in front of her, screaming for help while Renee stood useless, unable to save her. Being left completely alone in a world she could barely survive, even with her mother beside her.

Every time she jerked awake, her heart slammed against her ribs, sweat clinging cold to her skin. She’d fumble for the glass on her nightstand, her hand shaking as she took a sip, and the moment her eyes drifted shut again, the dark dragged her back under. Same nightmares. Same dread. Like it had been waiting for her.

By the time her alarm finally blared, she felt worse than before she’d slept.

The next six hours at work were agony: slow, grinding, draining, wearing her down until she was on the edge of full mental burnout.

More voices. More panic. More strangers drowning in their own disasters, while Renee was up s**t’s creek without a paddle at the other end of the line.

When her shift finally ended, she didn’t feel relief, just a weird sense of emptiness.

Renee grabbed her coat and clocked out. The rain hadn’t let up since the morning. It was grey, unsteady, and tired, just like her. She lit her second-to-last cigarette and leaned against the wall, chugging the last of an energy drink. The third one in six hours.

She tried to enjoy the only quiet minutes she’d get all day, but the thought of her overdue rent sat heavily on her shoulders. It followed her through the rain and into the car.

She opened her banking app. Savings: $11,982. The number just sat there, mocking her. Her mom. The insurance. Her car finally giving up on her after ten years. All the daunting what-ifs she couldn’t escape. If her mom’s treatment hit another snag, that money would be gone quicker than she could snap her fingers.

But on the other hand, if she didn’t pay rent, she’d lose the roof over her head before she could even help.

She transferred $3,500 to her main account and lit her last cigarette, feet on the dash, smoke curling through the car. The rental app loaded slowly, as if it knew what she was about to do, giving her a final chance to back out.

She hit “Pay.” Three grand gone in a second. Guilt settled in right after, a familiar, sickly feeling she knew all too well. She bit at her nails, trying to convince herself it was the right call.

A second later, her phone buzzed: Thanks for your—

“Thanks for your… f**k you.” She angrily swiped it away and dropped the phone into her pocket.

For a minute, she just sat there, window cracked, rain hissing against the glass. She smoked the rest down to the filter, flicked it out into a puddle, and started the engine.

As she pulled out of the lot, her phone buzzed again. Then again.

With a groan, she eased the car to the curb and grabbed it from the passenger seat—a few new messages lit up the screen:

Ren, please. They’re outside my apartment. They’re going to kill me.

She stared at it for a second, thumb hovering as she contemplated her response.

Then she typed: Enjoy being f****d by the devil in hell. At least you enjoy being pegged.