Rose's Point Of View
The tears were hot and thick, completely unstoppable as they soaked straight through my faded cotton pillowcase until the fabric clung to my cheek. I pulled my knees tighter against my chest, wrapping my arms around my shins and rocking myself back and forth on the mattress. The old bedsprings gave a pathetic, rhythmic creak with every shift of my weight… a tiny, miserable soundtrack to accompany my panic.
"What am I supposed to do?" I choked out, the words muffled against my denim jeans. "What am I actually supposed to do?"
Friday loomed just hours away. The deadline stared me right in the face, a razor-sharp edge cutting closer with each passing minute, and my bank account remained a desolate wasteland. I had given Diego every single penny of my salary, not even keeping enough for a transit pass or a decent meal.
