Best not to get within arm's reach of a creature like this. You slip quickly and silently into the darkness of the alley, and crouch behind a dumpster. You hear her approaching unsteadily, mumbling something under her breath. You breathe a sigh of relief as she wobbles past the alleyway, but just as you are about to get up and slip out behind her, you hear something that stops you.
A fart. The drunken woman pauses, just in front of the alley, to let out a disgusting blast of gas. "Fuckin' kid," you hear her grumble, "Couldn't wait just five more minutes?" You realize in horror that she's stepping into the alleyway. Your heart begins to race as you hear her come nearer. You hold your breath as she actually comes into view, standing directly in front of where you are crouched behind the dumpster. You pray it's too dark for her to notice you. Your eyes widen as she tugs her shorts down with a little effort, and squats her bare ass down a bit.
It takes everything you have not to gag as she takes a dump right in front of you. You clamp a hand over your mouth and nose, both to mask the smell and to keep from retching. You close your eyes and stay very still, as she deposits the stinking remains of some poor boy on the ground. With a final grunt, she pulls her trousers back up, and heads back to the street. You wait until you can't hear her footsteps anymore before getting slowly to your feet. You step gingerly over the bone-littered mound of shit, and peek out of the alleyway. The coast seems to be clear, so you hurry past the bar, not waiting around for another drunken slut to stumble out.
You don't slow your pace until you finally make it home, hurrying up the path and stepping through the door, heaving a sigh of relief. The light in the kitchen is on, and you can hear your mother poking around in there, but you don't bother to say hello. You head straight upstairs to the relative safety of your room, and collapse exhausted onto the bed, just glad to be alive. You forgot how much you hated game nights.
You muster the strength to shower and get cleaned up, and send a text to Millie to let her know you made it home alright. She replies with a kissy face and a simple "night~". The two of you don't really text much. You both prefer in-person interaction. You drift off to sleep after just a few moments.
Far sooner than you'd like, your alarm is beeping away, warning you to get up. You have to leave the house at about 7:20 if you want to get to school on time, so you try to be fully awake by 7. You're out of bed by 6:45, brewing up a pot of coffee while you get ready. You kind of like the mornings. They give you some peace and quiet, all to yourself. Your mother is never out of bed by 10, so you don't have to worry about her bitching. Once you have your things together, you sit at the table, sipping your coffee and mentally preparing yourself for the day.
It's foggy and a bit chilly when you step outside, so you pull up your hoodie as you set out, hoping your commute isn't as eventful as it was last night. Thankfully, no one attempts to have you for breakfast, and you arrive at school undigested with ten minutes to spare. Millie is leaning against the wall next to the door as usual, waiting for you. The two of you smile and wave at each other, and she greets you with a kiss.
"Glad to see you made it okay," she says. "You need to get a car, so I don't have to worry so much!"
"Yeah, I really do," you agree. "Guess I should start looking for a job, huh?"
"Yeah, you deadbeat," she teases with a giggle. "Now get to class. If you're late, Mrs. Miles will be having a big breakfast."
Your heart drops suddenly at the mention of your history teacher. You'd forgotten about the situation yesterday. You hope Mrs. Miles did the same. You give Millie a kiss and run off to class, butterflies in your stomach. You walk into class a take your spot inconspicuously, trying to draw as little attention to yourself as possible.
She spots you anyway. From her seat behind her desk, she raises her head to look at you. The two of you make eye contact, and after a second, she smirks, ever so slightly. Then she reaches into the wastebasket next to her and pulls out a shirt for you to see. Your recognize it as the one Ramos had been wearing. You relax, both immensely relieved that you won't be feeding her, and sorry that Ramos had taken your place. Oh well. Every man for himself.