And mine

Anna

Bill doesn’t even care that I hear him. In the early days they would whisper or talk about me behind closed doors where they didn’t know I was listening. But not now.

Now Bill and Rosie don’t give a shit that I know what they think of me.

Bill’s words carry loud and clear. The little window in the room I sleep in is open, and his voice reaches me perfectly. So does Kennedy’s.

The girl is a vicious little bitch. She’s a fucking nightmare. A disgusting, vindictive little shit.

Bill, please…

Of course the answer was no. I knew it would be. They hate me, both of them, and I don’t blame them.

I didn’t spit in Rosie’s stew though, I just pretended to. She wouldn’t believe me when I said I hadn’t really. She threw the whole lot in the sink and told me I was a horrible girl. And then she cried.

She flapped her arms about and called for Bill and told him she was done with me, that they were all done with me.

And I shrugged and said I didn’t care, that I didn’t give a fuck about her shitty