Penelope's POV
After two years...
"You know, I hear that all the time. The magic thing about home is that it feels good to leave, and it feels even better to come back..."
"What are you doing over there? Turn off the radio." Elda kicked the door open and slumped onto the couch.
The tiny, 210-square-foot room smelled strongly of alcohol. I turned off the radio and stood up. "You're drinking again?"
"What? If you can't get me the dreamer, just shut the fuck up."
I scowled. "You'll die if you keep taking morphine like this."
Elda's so-called dreamer referred to morphine only. Yes, Elda was a morphine addict.
"Who the hell cares! Stop spouting trash and fuck off!" Elda shouted and threw a pillow in my face.
"But I care!" I responded, grabbing the pillow and dashing angrily towards Elda, "I care about you!"
Elda looked at me with half-lowered eyes and offered me a half-hearted grin. "Got it, nag."
