The next few days felt dreamlike as I moved torpidly from home to Bailey's Nuts. Somedays, I would admonish myself for perpetually stressing about the harrowing predicament I was tangled in and other days, I would incessantly harass myself to think about the daunting situation (as my mind wandered off to everything else but that) and discover a solution for it. Nevertheless, from exaggerated plans of robbing a bank to petty crimes like pickpocketing, I explored all plausible and asinine ideas and never reached a pragmatic conclusion.  

"Hey, what are you thinking?" Isaac's inquisitive voice brought me back. "You have been quiet lately."

"I have always wanted to be quiet, but you guys never allowed me any peace," I sneered, then bit the inside of my cheek. Be kind. "Why do you think that anyway?"

"I don't want to be intrusive, but you have been not yourself since that day- that day at your building. That-that boy, is he troubling you?"

"Oh no, Sam's like my brother. He simply lost his temper that day," I said dismissively. "You know, things aren't great for people like us who live there."

Isaac looked crestfallen and guilt-ridden, here I was again, crassly pointing out our class difference. 

He then nodded in understanding. "If you want any help, let me know. " Ask him, ask him for money! "Help with anything." Tell him, tell him what happened to you! "You will, won't you Ana?"

"Sure." I shrugged casually, grabbing a washcloth and assiduously wiping the smooth counter.

* * *

The minute I arrived at the corridor of my apartment, my eyes briefly met with Abel's who was combing his greyish hair, watching the rowdies fooling around in the compound.

I quickly turned around, but halted at his mocking voice, "Where are you going, love?" I remained quiet, I knew that any sassy retort would land me in pitiful trouble. "It's been a while and I haven't heard a word from you."

"I don't have the money," I said courageously, balling my hands into tight fists. "I'm arranging for it."

"Nonsense!" he exclaimed, his apathetic eyes bulging madly. "You promised to help me as fast as possible. This is not fast! It's been over a week, you stupid slut!"

I feared that he would smack me so I recoiled involuntarily.

He snickered in a futile attempt to control his boiling aggravation. "You're provoking me in ways no one has, Mariana."

I was irked, my fists were shaking from this pumping desire to harm him or perhaps they were shaking from mere fright, I couldn't tell.

"Look." I drew in a long breath and fished through my pockets. "Papá spent all his savings on his new business and all I have is-is this."

I timidly offered him a month's salary of toiling away in Bailey's Nuts.

He suddenly slapped my outstretched hand and cried out, "You're lying!"

"No, I swear---"

His large hands squeezed my cheeks painfully as he looked at me dead in the eye. "Bring me the money or I won't hesitate to show you and everyone else what I got."

I felt so small right then like I was transported back to when I was a mischievous child and reprimanded for pushing Isaac into a puddle.

I tried to maintain the sincerity in my eyes and after a few, torturous seconds of him holding me in that vulnerable position, he scornfully let go.

"Next time," he muttered and I nodded faintly, ignoring the burn of pain and shame tingling my cheeks.

"Mariana?" I heard a bewildered, familiar voice of my comforting friend from behind. "What's going on?"

Abel's gaze flickered from Sam to me before he indifferently brushed past us and headed down, confident that I wouldn't dare say a word to Sam.

"What just happened?" he demanded, looking puzzled.

"Nothing," I said grudgingly, but before I could advance towards my room, his skinny frame blocked my way. "I'm tired, Sam."

"Is he bothering you?"

"Shut up," I said irritatedly. "Don't be a jealous prick all the time. It's exhausting."

He scoffed and I furtively inspected the wound that his mother had generously given him by throwing a glass bottle on his temple which was now shabbily bandaged. "I'm being jealous now? You don't say shit to me!"

"Because there's nothing to tell you!" I yelled defensively. "Why are you here? Weren't you mad at me for hanging out with Isaac at "our" spot?"

"I-I forgive you for that," he grumbled and held my hand, dragging me downstairs.

"Where are we going?"

"I realised that I was being silly," he admitted abashedly, taking a seat on the stairs. "But you have to tell me, you have to tell me what the fuck is going on with you?"

"Why do you care?"

"Are you seriously going to ask me that?" He seemed offended. "Your father talked to me---"

"Oh, now I see what the deal is!"

"Stop it, just stop." He lightly touched the breast pocket of his jacket and grew more vexed when he couldn't find his precious joint. "We're both concerned and I know you won't tell anything to you dad so I figured . . . "

"To extract information out of me and then report it to my papá? Can't believe that he hired a spy."

"Hey, you know me, I won't tell anything to him. Have I ever?"

"No," I said truthfully. "But Sam, this . . . This is not something I want to talk about."

"Is this something to do with that creep living next to you?" Sam questioned and caught the visible discomfort in my eyes. "I'll fuck up his life! I'll fuck him up! Let him come back!"

Sam looked comical, bunching up the sleeves of his oversized jacket and revealing thin arms, but the malice evident on his face prevented me from laughing. Laughter would anyway not come easily considering the nightmarish circumstances. I found myself shivering in terror too, scared that Sam would do something to Abel and further exacerbate my wrecked life.

"I'll tell you some parts, but please, do not be reckless," I implored him. "Do not do anything to Abel, he'll fuck my life if you fuck his."

I could see Sam biting his tongue from hurling abuses or threatening me and he nodded soberly.

"Sam . . . He has pictures of me," I began in a small voice. Don't do this, don't. This is a mistake. You know Sam, you know how thoughtless he becomes when he's mad. "Dirty pictures."

A heavy silence followed which I believed would engulf me if Sam didn't speak soon.

Fortunately, he did. "How? What happened?"

"That is not important," I said forcefully. That night. The burning taste of soda in my throat. A trail of insects feasting on biscuit crumbs. A photo-frame with a couple and their two smiling daughters. The net material of my purple frock scratching my thighs. Too many lights on the ceiling, too many. "Now he's blackmailing me . . . He wants money in exchange for those pictures . . . "

Sam got up languidly and I hurriedly clung to his arm. "Y-You g-gave me your-your word. You won't do anything!"

"I can't sit here and do nothing!" he fired back. "Leave me please, I need to think."

All I needed was some consoling, not abandonment.

"Please don't do anything stupid, Sam," I begged and he reassuringly patted my head like I was some mongrel, then pulled me into a warm hug.

"Go home Mariana and don't worry. We'll figure it out," he said in a normal tone and I couldn't decipher what he was plotting. Sam was intelligent, I could trust him, I should, but I couldn't bring myself to. He was acting strangely in a way he never had and I knew that I was doomed.