Liz can hear her stomach growl again for the third time in as many minutes, and her deadbeat dipshit boyfriend is fishing.
Not bad enough that he's losing his mind, all that bologna about demons and angels, well that isn't exactly new she corrects herself, he was always talking about God to her for years, but now he's crazier since that last fight.
Her stomach growls for the fourth time.
She still can't believe he ripped off the only dealer still talking to them, and God only knows what happened to the muscle that came to collect at the apartment, the whole thing is still a blur in her mind, but hell do drugs long enough and that happens.
For a minute she was starting to buy his shit. That was probably just the junk talking.
Liz hates being ignored, her parents used to do that for years till she left when she was 15. And now here she is once again. In some shitty situation, hungry, thirsty, left in a hot car while someone else does whatever the fuck they want, but what about what she wants?
What she wants is in her front right pocket, and she can't stop touching it. Just to make sure she tells herself, just to make sure she didn't just imagine that too, but there it is. A little plastic baggie, one of the hundreds from a backpack.
She hears laughter from outside the car. Fucking men.
"They always disappoint you" she murmurs to herself.
Or maybe it's her mom talking. She said that once Liz thinks. Who knows though? Memory is such a blur.
She looks at the clock on the dash, but the cars been off for more than ten minutes and the blank empty dial just stares back at her.
"Fuck it," she says aloud as her hand comes out of the pocket with a plastic baggie tight in her grip.