After that night, Priscilla cut me off completely. I woke up that next morning, in Jule's bed, to find that I was blocked on every single thing you could think of. When I tried to text her, my messages didn't deliver, telling me she had blocked my number. She even made it a point to avoid me in school as well. In all of our classes together, she had sat on the other side of the room instead of next to me. When I passed her in the hallway, she looked forward with her head high, as if she never saw me. I didn't blame her. If I didn't force her to drive me to Fezco's, what happened would have never happened. Maybe I deserved it, but she definitely didn't. I made Priscilla do the number one thing she hated most in this world. Drugs. Priscilla stopped talking to Fezco as well. Which was another reason why he also hated me now. I didn't blame him for that either. Priscilla was his childhood love or whatever, she meant everything to him even if she didn't know that.

Priscilla pulled her hair back into a tight ponytail as she opened the back door for the kitchen. She smiled and waved as she passed her coworkers to make her way to the front. She grabbed an apron off of the clothing rack, the first person waiting for her was her mother. Her mother narrowed her eyes at her, placing the back of her palm on her daughter's forehead.

"You okay, mija?" Her mother questioned, probably for the tenth time in the past two days, "You seem more quiet lately."

Priscilla nodded, smiling tightly, "Yeah, I'm fine mom."

Priscilla picked up a pen and a pad, working her shift like she usually would. She was just getting over the effects of the fentanyl, which came with common sickness and vomiting. She couldn't even remember how she got home that night.

Priscilla snapped herself out of her thoughts as she waited on a family. A mother and a father with their two sons were prepared to make their order.

The son pointed to the pictures on the menu as his mother nudged him underneath the table.

"Hable con ella en inglés. Se sabe que algunas de estas personas no pueden hablar con nosotros."

Priscilla chuckled, her fist slightly tightening around the pen, "Te entiendo perfectamente bien." The woman looked at her shocked and almost offended.

Priscilla could see her mother calling her over out of the corner of her eye and put her pen back in her apron,

"Vuelvo enseguida a tomar su orden," Priscilla walked over, sighing at her mother, "What?"

"Someone's here to see you," her mother told her, a stern look on her face, "Handle it quick, please." Priscilla scoffed, walking back through the kitchen and out the back door.

There was Fezco, waiting for her outside of his car.

Instantly, anger and rage bubbled up in the deepest parts of her as she stared at him. His hands were deep in his pockets as he walked up to her.

"Priscilla, look-"

A loud slap was heard across the empty parking lot as Priscilla's open palm connected with Fezco's cheek. His face went to the side as he tried to register what just happened. Priscilla, breathing heavily, stepped back away from him.

"How the fuck do you even build up the nerve to show up to my fucking job after what happened?"

"I just wanted to come to see you, see how you were doing."

"I'm fucking fine, considering!"

"I'm sorry," he tried to apologize.

"You're sorry? You're fucking sorry?"

"I'm sorry, Priscilla! Look, Rue came by the house earlier trying to get some shit and I told her I'm not fucking with her anymore. I'm not going to let her kill herself."

"But that doesn't mean you're going to stop selling to other people though, right?"

Fezco remained silent.

"That doesn't make you any more of a good fucking person, Fez. She would've never gotten into that shit if you weren't the one to introduce her to drugs in the first fucking place. And now you think you're some savior for stopping after you're the one who put us in danger with this shit? Fuck you!" Priscilla pushed him back, "Fuck you, Fez! Don't come back here anymore, don't fucking text me or call me. I never want to see you again, alright?"