I am weak. I can't remember how many times I tell myself this. I look up and all I can see is the ceiling.
"It is your turn to clean the bathroom," the guard who Master Chavo had sent to watch over me and Ava says.
My body feels numb and leaden, as if the weight of sheer desolation has physically manifested to pin me down. The guard's gruff command echoes hollowly in my ears, registering somewhere on the periphery but unable to fully penetrate the haze of anguish shrouding my mind.
Through bleary eyes, I watch as he crosses his thick arms over his broad chest with an impatient scowl. "Did you not hear me, b***h? I said get your mangy hide up and clean the facilities like you're supposed to!"
Sluggishly, I pry my gaze away from that indifferent guard to settle on the huddled form beside
