Our damn parents never did a thing for us. They abused us when we were young, dumped their debts on us when we grew up, and then died without a second thought. We're stuck in a rotting studio apartment, tied to blood relatives we can't even get rid of, and life is still at rock bottom. Just breathing makes me want to kill myself, and every time I see your face, I have to suppress the urge to snap. I don't know if what I feel for you is hatred, responsibility, or some dead remnants of family love. But even if I die, I can't stand to see you die. You were the one who saved me when I was trying to die back then. Don't tell me you regret it now? After all this time? That's not even funny. Stop bullshitting and just rot in this hell with me.