Rhea
The first ray of sunlight hit my face. My back was screaming from sleeping on the lumpy bed, and my joints felt like they had been rusted solid.
I sat up, blinking against the stained streaked window, and let out a long, shaky exhale that sounded too loud in the empty shack.
"I'm still here," I muttered to the peeling wallpaper. "Fuck."
I grabbed the tin from under the mattress, my fingers shaking as I counted the coins. It wasn’t a fortune, but it was enough to buy me a shot at something other than scrubbing human filth off marble floors.
I stood up, while I stretched. I needed a job, and I needed it yesterday.
By midday, I was walking down a narrow street, my hood pulled so low it was practically blinding me. I stopped in front of a cramped, soot-stained bakery which had a sig
