Dangling upside down awarded me a splitting headache and bloody rope burns. Miraculously, I managed to drag myself along an alley crusted with cigarette butts and needles. Even more impressive was finding the courage to humiliate myself by asking for a ride home from the person least suited for this place.

Sunset Boulevard sloshed with sex. A myriad of Vipers’ sex workers heckled clients, while the lineup of full-service strip clubs projected life-sized X-rated, 3D holograms. Each club aired its flavor, from babes in private school uniforms petting private parts to a dominatrix whipping a wolf-costumed fella.

“Sunset and the one hundred and ten?” Mom’s voice on the phone cut through the muffled bass pounding from nearby clubs. “What are you doing on the Vipers’ strip?”

“Can you just come, now? Please?” I shivered while a lady in red latex lit up a spoon, the window cleaner scent of Blue mingling with the street’s beer and piss stench.

“I’m on my way, sweetie.” Mom’s tone softened. “You know you can talk to me about anything.”

Yeah, right. Mom would pass out if she knew there was a bomb in my neck. “Focus on the road so you don’t have an accident.”

“My driving’s fine,” she snapped. “Tell me what’s going on. You’re worrying me.”

“Everything’s great. Got to go.” I hung up and made the mistake of using my phone’s camera to look at my clammy, disheveled self. My red blouse neckline was deepened by a rip created by the Vipers’ manhandling.

A dude shuffled toward me, gray clumps of hair plastered to his forehead. His gas mask gleamed with silver teeth, and when he spoke, its transmitter gave off reverb as if he stood in a large, echoing room. “How much?”

Bloody hell. Arms folded, I glared and deadpanned, “Ten k.”

“Ten k! Is your pussy made of gold?” He huffed and plodded away, shaking his head.

Overhead, a red beam flashed while a buzzing akin to a trunk-sized bee deafened me. Another drone carrying a shipment container. One more load of luxury goods being delivered to the lucky Utop employees living their best life inside their walled off fairy-tale kingdom. I bet those pompous pigs loved inundating every 3D show with their mouth-watering meals and swanky homes equipped with tech seemingly able to perform magic.

Meanwhile, within spitting distance from their closed paradise, everyone else fought each other for scraps, eating our rehydrated meals, driving our thirty-plus-year-old cars, clinging to life with no hope of ever setting foot inside the wall. Why? Because we committed the crime of being born on the wrong side.

After biting my nails raw for fifteen minutes, our rusty orange pickup truck pulled up. The sun-bleached sticker on our truck’s door sadly announced Locke 3D Repairs - Electronics and Automotives.

From the truck’s open window, Mom scanned the crowd, eyes bulging. “Good Lord. Get in.” Mom, with her face shield bonnet and beige cloak crested with the Universalist emblem, looked like a monk lost in hell.

I hurried to the passenger seat. The wheels spun in the gravel as I shut the door. Mom, who normally got honked at for driving too slowly, hit the gas so hard I bounced in my seat.

Mom glared at my ripped blouse. “Tell me you’re not selling your virtue.”

“Of course not.” Though that was likely to change soon. “I … I need …” My throat tightened, and I coughed. “Ten k.”

Mom snickered, then her gaze latched onto me, and her grin dissolved into a scowl. “You’re serious?”

“I’ve been working for our shop after school since I was seven, pulling seventy-hour weeks since graduating, and I’ve never asked to be paid.” I burned to admit I’d fronted the business twenty times that number, but then she would ask how I’d made the money.

“And zero hours since you moved out last month,” she said, stressing on zero and waving her O-shaped hand in my face. “You’re working for the Vipers. You’ve been staying at Gia’s to hide it from us.”

“I’ll explain everything later, I promise.”

She wagged her raised index finger at me. “You’re not getting one single U-coin until you tell me what happened.”

“Can’t you just trust me for once?”

She snorted.

Further down Sunset Boulevard, vendors were closing shop, pulling down eroded metal garage doors. A handful of hooded forms, their face blurred by a plastic shield, trudged to the parking lot head down. One walked a German Shepherd on a chain, lugging along a likely-stolen commercial coffee maker he’d failed to sell.

Mom fixated on the road, her skin mottled. I would’ve preferred to hang on the rope again than admit to her that I dealt drugs. Even knowing it was only once, and that I did it for Dad, she’d believed I was heading to Hell. It was already too late for me, but she didn’t have to know that. She should continue to hold the belief that we would reunite in the afterlife.

Although, I wouldn’t have to tell Mom if we robbed Electronix Empire tonight. But then, Rio, one of our crew, had almost died on our last job; I wouldn’t be able to live with myself knowing that rushing into this one got someone killed. No. I had to ask Mom to open the business’ crypto wallet, even though my gut was screaming that this would become my biggest mistake.

I exhaled. “Years I’ve waited for a notification from an auction site for bionic legs.”

She sighed, her expression pained. “You know your dad always refuses help.”

“Maybe if he believed the prosthesis had been donated to the temple …”

“Still. Go on.”

“I would have lost the bionic legs if I didn’t raise my bid in the next forty-eight hours. So, the Vipers lent me the money and—”

“Don’t insult my intelligence, Ella!” Her nostrils flared.

“Fine, I sold pills—”

“Good Lord …” She waved her index finger before her face and kissed her Universalist pendant.

“The only way to get the money in time was to ask the Vipers for pills on consignment, no money upfront—”

Mom opened her mouth to speak.

“—which I know was reckless, but I thought it might be Dad’s only chance to walk again. There might never be another set of bionic legs on the market. When I tried to increase my bid, my crypto account had been robbed.” Right after selling out the pills at my rave party, I passed out with my crypto session logged in—not my proudest feat. I awoke with a hangover and my savings gone. “The Vipers own me if I don’t cough up their inflated share of the profit by tomorrow.”

Street after street, the only sound coming from Mom was her ragged breathing.

I couldn’t take her silence anymore. “Say something. Tell me I’m stupid. Yell at me, please!”

“We’re not telling your dad,” she said finally, voice brittle, as if she was on the verge of tears. “He’ll blame himself. And he can’t see you dressed like this. You stay at the workshop while I bring your cloak.”

I exhaled and tears spilled. “Can you loan me the money now … please …?”

“Our savings are gone.” The words burst out of her flushed face. “We didn’t want to worry you, but the Vipers increased their protection fee again, and we’ve had almost no online sales since you left.”

Of course there weren’t any sales: I had stopped purchasing our stuff. “Sorry,” I said weakly.

Eight years of robbing warehouses to buy our shop’s used electronics to pay the Vipers monthly protection fees, and I still didn’t have enough saved up to pay for my father’s prosthesis. If Rio wasn’t recovering from his gunshot wound, my crew had the experience to pull off a heist before the auction ended. Making that deal with the Vipers was the only way to win the bidding war. Because of my stupidity, I lost the bionic legs and my entire life savings. If only I could go back to stop myself.

Mom parked inside our workshop, two blocks from our house. Only a faint scent of grease and welding reached me; no new car repair since I left …

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Time to move to Plan B. I texted my best friend.

Me: We need to hit Electronix Empire tonight.

Gia: Why? Is something wrong?

Me: Everything is fine. I’ll be right over.

I hoped Gia believed me—I couldn’t stand worrying her, too. I only had twenty-eight hours to carry out the heist and fence the electronics. Driving to Gia’s place to prep the job ASAP would be best. But if I didn’t shower first, Gia would find out the Vipers snatched me after one glance at my I’ve-been-through-hell look. Besides, I could get killed during tonight’s heist. I had to talk to my dad and sister one last time.

Mom returned to the workshop and remained silent as she handed me my beige cloak. With the cloak on, I could be confused for a ‘good Universalist’ if you missed the dash of dirt, dried blood, and the bird’s nest hairdo.

I left the workshop and began my nauseating trek to our house. Two blocks of once-paved roads turned into an undrivable landfill after four decades of no garbage disposal or road repairs. Most of Los Angeles realm’s streets were now a rotten cadaver’s belly studded with concrete chunks poking up like jagged bones on a mission to shank tires. The decomposing leftover food and human feces smelled so bad, it seemed they squirted tendrils that clawed into my lungs. And I had to keep my eyes on the filth to avoid stepping on a maggot feast.

The upbeat jingle announcing Utop’s eight o’clock newscast startled me. The grating tune played on my phone and inside the houses nearby. Nothing shy of breaking every piece of tech with speakers in Los Angeles could stop Utop’s imposed livestream. My curved phone, coiled around my forearm, projected our megacorp master’s propaganda of the day.

A foot-high 3D hologram of Chief Manipulator—I mean, Chief Marketing Officer—Olivier Rousseau announced a new Red Plague outbreak in the Northern United Territory. As expected, he used that as an excuse to raise Los Angeles’s water barrel prices. I could no longer focus on his speech, only on his roguish face … playful smirk … and body built for gladiator fights. Being forced to stare at him daily and listen to his sultry, commanding voice was torture. Sweet, sweet torture.

I climbed the steps to our house and heard the door’s deadbolts unlock automatically; my parents hadn’t removed access to their drug dealer daughter. Yet.

The showroom’s air tickled my nose, the musty funk foreign after a month of being away. As I removed my boots in the vestibule, Mom frantically sprayed and wiped the tubes of an unsold, used food rehydrator in the showroom. Thickness grew in my throat.

Dad, his unkempt gray hair reaching his shoulders, hobbled over. He leaned more weight on his cane than usual, probably because of the humid weather. “Honey, what’s going on? Where’s Ella?”

“She’s coming.” Mom frowned at the coffee stain on Dad’s flannel shirt, but said nothing.

“You’ve been on your feet since five in the morning.” He gently retrieved the rag and cleaner from her hands and set them on the front desk. “Come here.” He opened his arms, and Mom nuzzled into his shoulder, his arms wrapping around her. “There’s nothing we can’t solve together.”

She stepped back, wiped her tears, and stared up into Dad’s eyes. “Not this time. Her soul … what she did …”

“She has plenty of time to redeem herself.”

I dabbed tears with my sleeve and shuffled in, staring at the floor.

Mom stormed away and shoved the string curtain door leading to the kitchen.

Dad clasped my shoulders, steadying himself. “You’re staying home, right?”

“I don’t know,” I said softly.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, gazing down. Silence stretched as we stood listlessly. Then, he straightened and stared at me with resolve that reminded me of his expression before constant knee pain started clouding his focus. “Whatever you did, Monkey, we’ll fix it.”

“I’m fine.”

“You have this gift from God. One day, you’ll achieve something incredible. I know it.”

I sighed.

“No, really. I believe in you.”

The bloody AI were doing everything; there weren’t any jobs left for people born on the wrong side of the wall. On our side, to cash in, you sold drugs or yourself. My photographic memory was about as useful here as giving a phone to a caveman.

If I got shot during tonight’s heist, this would be our last goodbye. I hugged him, clinging to the moment. “Love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, Monkey.” He kissed my forehead, his calloused hands cradling my face.

Leaving Dad brewed an ache in my chest. I traversed the faded bamboo string curtain, longing for its once vibrant palm tree art that brightened my day as a kid. Mom didn’t lift her eyes from the cast-iron skillet she punishingly scrubbed when I passed her to go outside. In the backyard bathroom shed, I turned on the faucet connected to a reservoir on the shelf above the tub. The lukewarm rainwater washed away the dirt but left the shame unscathed.

With no time to waste, I rushed to my make-do studio apartment in our detached garage, the leaky roof patched with blue tarps. I yanked Gia’s camo crop top from a ‘clean-enough’ pile of clothes and slapped some auto-drying gel into my hair. The moisture from my hair dripped onto the dirty clothes scattered across the floor as I put on my black, knee-slit leggings.

I climbed to my sister’s room in the house’s attic, ushered in by the squeaking sound of Buttercup running on her wheel in her ten-foot-wide cage. Kira played Lethalbot Legend cross-legged on her bed, surrounded by a 3D holographic pirate ship. Curly red hair framed her freckled pout as she lifted her arm to make her avatar open a treasure chest.

“Hey, Pumpkin,” I said.

She smiled, showing her chipped tooth, but without the lines around her eyes drawn by true joy. “You’re home for good?” She turned off her phone projecting the 3D game and pushed a lock of hair behind her right ear, revealing the burn mark on her cheek. I bit my lip. No child should be marred with a scar that ran deeper than flesh.

“I’ve got something urgent to do, but I’ll bring you to Sailor Moon Café on Saturday, and you can have all the Tiger’s Blood shaved ice you want.”

Her green eyes lit up, her face glowing. “You promise?”

“Sure. Close the game—you should already be asleep.”

“Can you read a story with me?”

I loved how she hissed every S. “Not tonight. I have this tight deadline …” Literally, with twenty-eight hours left to rack up ten k.

Kira’s smile dropped.

This couldn’t be her last memory of me. “Okay, one story.”

“Awesome. Read Ursa the Sassy Spy.”

“But you know the series by heart.”

“I found a new one online.”

Eight years old and already pirating books. We might not share blood, but she was definitely my sister. I lounged beside her, and we took turns every page. She stumbled on a few words; otherwise, her reading was fluid.

“You’re doing great,” I said.

She snorted. “Kids still giggle each time I mess up.”

“Sorry, that must hurt.”

“I don’t care.” Wetness in her eyes betrayed her.

“Really? ‘Cause I cried when kids teased me.”

Her eyebrows crumpled. “But you read impossibly fast.”

“Which is also a reason to get mocked.”

I kissed her forehead and tucked her in. I climbed down the ladder, then wiggled inside my combat boots, pulled down my face-shield hoodie, and checked the time—9:14 p.m. Jeez. It’s late.

I snuck outside, closed the door quietly behind me, and headed to the workshop.

“Come back inside!” Mom called.

I turned to her. “I can’t. I have to see some friends.”

Mom approached, avoiding my gaze, pulling the lapels of her bathrobe tighter around her neck. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while.”

Dad exited the house and descended the steps, holding the railing and his cane.

Mom leaned in. “Decades ago, your father and I—”

“Susan, don’t!” he said, his tone unusually harsh.

Mom gazed at him. “If anything happens, she has to know the truth.”

“Enough!” He reached for her, lost balance on a flattened cardboard box, and fell to his knees.

Mom and I rushed to him.

“Don’t touch me!” He pushed himself up with his cane. His pride had kept him under house arrest for the past twelve years, too vain to let anyone help him negotiate the nasty streets.

I watched my parents in silence. Part of me wanted Mom to finish what she was about to reveal. She had to be referring to my supposed staircase fall at seven. I’d never questioned how one hit on the head could erase all my childhood memories because I couldn’t consider the alternative explanation. Every family ignored shadows to imagine a sunny home.

“I’m sorry, but I really have to go,” I told my parents and ran away.

“Wait,” Mom called after me.

Beelining toward the workshop distanced me from the orange glow of the Locke’s Repair Shop sign. In total darkness, I switched on my phone’s flashlight. The wind pricked at the wound in my neck where the bomb lay, and I shivered.

Plastic cracked underfoot behind me.

I reached for my Beretta but found my thigh empty. Damn. I had left it at my boyfriend’s place. I spun toward the footsteps. One of the head monk’s sycophants marched, clasping everyone’s worst nightmare: a red spray can and plague doctor stencil. He stopped in front of the Wilsons’ house.

“No, no, no, not them,” I muttered.

With his plague doctor gas mask, complete with a beak and globular eyes, this abomination tagged their front door. Through the Wilsons’ living room window, I watched Malik stroking Aaliyah’s back as she sobbed into his arms. Her stomach was huge now—she had to be in her third trimester. I never bought the Universalist’s stance that the Red Plague virus only infected sinners. No way the Wilsons deserved to lose their home and be exiled from our community. I traced a circle in the air in front of my face to bless their family and kissed my Universalist pendant, the silver ring cold against my lips as I ran my thumb along the vertical rod bisecting it.

Detecting my phone’s signal, the workshop door groaned as it rolled open before me. I hopped onto my motorcycle. I’d spent more time fixing the forty-year-old gruff beast than riding it, but it hurled me from point A to B in one piece, at least most of the time.

I drove into an alley swamped by Viper tags and graffiti—the bulk of it being different creative versions of FU Utop. My headlight uncloaked nothing but a dirt path as I sliced through the skin-biting wind. The full moon’s stillness lulled me into a sanctuary where no past could jumble my thoughts, no future could press on my chest. No sound other than the soothing rumble of the motor. Peace at last.

Then a drone carrying more goodies to ritzy Utop employees buzzed ahead and shattered my delusion.