They came through the front door like they had already decided where everything was going.
Like my house was already theirs and I was nothing more than an uninvited rat that they couldn't get rid of.
Their bags swung off their shoulders even as their voices overlapped as they talked excitably about something that they had no idea about.
Hell, one of them was already looking at the wall like he was about to start writing on it at any moment so he could remember whatever was in his head. Nobody paused long enough to look around properly, which told me everything I needed to know about how this was going to go.
It was the survivors all over again. And I wasn't going to put up with that.
The first time was a lesson, this time it would be nothing but a punishment. And I wasn't enough of a masochist to want to go through it a second time.
