The mont Catherine walked into her cousin’s apartnt, she was imdiately hit with a wave of stale air and sothing sharp. Perhaps so unwashed laundry, maybe food left out too long. She pressed her sleeve to her nose.
"Tim?" she called. Since she knew where he usually hid his keys, she didn’t have to knock and just walked inside. "Tim? You here?"
No response.
She stepped over a pile of dirty clothes and empty soda cans. The place was a ss. She eyed so pizza boxes stacked beside the couch, a baby bottle half-full on the floor, and crumbs everywhere. The couch had a suspicious stain on one end.
Then she heard clicking. Rolling her eyes, she followed the sound and found Tim sitting at the desk, eyes locked on the monitor. He was hunched over a chanical keyboard, fingers flying, a headset on his head. Onscreen, colorful characters clashed in so fantasy arena. Catherine spotted the match tir at the top with less than two minutes left.
"You couldn’t even clean up?" she said.
Tim didn’t look away from the monitor. "Not now. I’m in a promo match. Gold rank if I win."
"You said last week. You said you’d give the money last week, Tim. I need it now."
"Just—shut up for five minutes, will you?" He jerked forward, mashing keys. "This guy’s running Pyro-Lancer with Lifesteal. Gotta bait his ult."
Catherine clenched her fists. "Tim, I don’t care about your rank. Where’s my money?"
"Do you want to lose this match and stay broke forever?"
"You’re already broke!"
Tim’s eyes darted across the screen. "Don’t distract , god—"
Suddenly, a loud death animation flared on the screen. His character fell, and the crowd in the ga cheered. "Defeat" flashed in red letters.
Tim froze.
Then he slamd his mouse against the desk. It bounced, hit the monitor fra, and dropped.
"You made lose!" he yelled. "You seriously ca here just to ruin this?"
"I ca to collect the money you promised . You said you’d pay!"
"Yeah? Well, not anymore!" He pointed at the screen. "That match was worth my upgrade. I could’ve gotten a streaming slot. Now? You blew it."
"It’s been weeks! I need the money now." Catherine crossed her arms. "Besides, If you don’t pay back, I’m filing a case in small claims. I have our agreent."
Tim laughed in response. "You an that garbage paper I made you write down? That’s not even notarized. They won’t do anything."
He turned back to his screen, grabbed the mouse off the floor, and clicked angrily. "So go ahead. Sue . You’ll get nothing."
Catherine stepped back. She hated this. Hated being here.
He stood, walked past her toward the fridge, and opened it. The light ca on, but there was nothing inside except a half-full ketchup bottle and an empty egg tray.
He shut it.
"Hey, got any food on you?" he asked.
Catherine blinked. "Are you serious?"
"I’m starving. Just give a bit of cash for takeout. I’ll pay you back when I get that job."
Catherine stared at him. "You’re asking for more money?"
Tim shrugged. "I got a kid now. Can’t let my girl go hungry."
At that, Catherine’s eyes shifted to the woman sitting on the mattress near the wall. She hadn’t noticed her earlier. Tim’s wife was cradling a baby, nursing her quietly under a loose blanket.
The woman didn’t look up. She looked exhausted. Her hair was tied up ssily, dark circles under her eyes.
The baby shifted slightly, letting out a small sound before settling again.
"You have rich friends, why can’t you just give fifty bucks for so takeouts?" he asked.
Catherine looked at the child. Then back at Tim.
"No," she said. "No more. I’m done."
He rolled his eyes. "Selfish as always."
"I ca here to ask for—"
"And you really think I care about that?" Tim said. "I told you, my wife just gave birth and you really want to ask for money from ? Do you wanna rob ?"
"It’s money that you owed," Catherine said.
Tim scoffed and leaned against the counter. "You know what? Fine. You want to talk about money? Let’s talk about it. You rember when your mom got sick the first ti? Who paid for the ds, huh? Who covered that week when your gas got cut off? I did. ."
Catherine stiffened.
"You think I forgot? Every ti you needed sothing, I was there. Groceries, cab fare, even that damn takeout from that overpriced Thai place you liked when you were ’too stressed to cook’? That was . I paid."
"You said you wanted to help," Catherine said quietly.
"I did help. And now you’re here acting like I owe you sothing?" Tim pointed toward the living room. "That couch? You slept on it for three weeks when you fought with your mom. Didn’t hear you complaining then. You and her both took and took. I didn’t keep tabs, but maybe I should’ve."
Catherine’s jaw clenched.
Tim shrugged. "Now suddenly I’m the bad guy because I can’t pay you back right this second? I don’t even have a job, Cathy. You want to pull money out of thin air?"
"You made a promise," she said.
"So what? Life changed. You think I planned for a baby? You think I knew my hours would get cut and then the job would shut down? I’m trying to survive here."
Catherine glanced again at the baby. The little girl shifted in her mother’s arms, face barely visible under the blanket.
"You made borrow that money in my na," she said, voice low. "You said you’d handle it."
"I said I’d try," Tim snapped. "Try. And now you’re what? Threatening with court? Over what? So handwritten note?"
"I have no choice," she said. "Adam’s calling every day. He said he’ll go to the school if I don’t pay."
Tim shook his head. "Not my problem. You wanted to play savior, you deal with it."
Catherine’s eyes burned. "You used . You blackmail to— "
Tim threw his hands up. "I did what I had to do. That’s life. You think you’re the only one with problems? Look around. We’re drowning too."
Catherine stepped back. She opened her mouth but couldn’t speak.
Tim turned away, grabbed his phone from the counter, and started scrolling. "Whatever. Door’s there. Don’t co back unless you’re ready to pay back for every damn thing I ever spent on you and your mom. Ungrateful freak!"
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