“I’m gonna spare you because I see what you’re doing,” I told her, grabbing my phone and charger. “You want somebody to hit you because that’s the only way you know how to communicate, by fighting. Then you can have something to bitch about instead of sitting here in your own thoughts about being a failure of a siren. How we, your friends, ME! Had to put up money for you to stay and actually perform and be what the fuck you are–––Not the school. Me! I paid for it!”
