You ever wake up in the morning and wonder to yourself: ‘Did I just wake up from sleeping or did I just come to after getting knocked out?’

Well, for me, it’s more like: ‘Did I just wake up from puking, then passing out or did I just get a bullet extracted from my head?’

He’s staring me down as I walk into the bathroom to clean myself up.

“Sleep well?” He chimes.

“Shut the fuck up.” I curtly respond as I pass him.

I look into the mirror and scream.

Scabbed lips. Scars on my right cheek.

The dark circles that are always around my eyes go with the whole ’I’ve been in a bar fight…twice.’ kind of look.

I turn to him. “What the hell did you do!?”

“It will only get worse if you do not do as I tell you.”

“I can’t go to school looking like this!” I scream frantically. “Fix it! Now!”

“Eventually, Liam.”

“No, don’t give me that bullshit, fix me now.”

I feel a hint of pain and his voice resounds over it: “You are in no position to make demands, Laim. Now get ready. You have much to do today.”