TO0TS1E
Becca Prescott-that's me... right? Okay, so here's the deal: I was just babysitting, out of the goodness of my heart. Or, more like, desperately trying to scrape together some cash-ramen noodles don't pay for themselves, you know. The Smiths' kids? They're usually pretty chill. Plus, a night away from my shoebox apartment (with my boyfriend, Billy)? Major bonus!
I could practically feel the freedom and the retina-melting glory of the Smiths' fancy new flatscreen TV. But of course, life had to throw me a curveball. Honestly, I've had enough curveballs to last a lifetime-like the time Mark dumped me via text, or those midnight spiraling thoughts at 3 A.M. about quitting everything.
Some nights, it all piles up like dirty laundry until my basket inevitably overflows. But hey, I'm still here, aren't I? Anyway, instead of the chill babysitting night I was hoping for, I got a blood-soaked, knife-wielding disaster. Because apparently, "normal" isn't in the cards for me.