I get why they don’t trust me. I know what they whisper behind my back. ‘Oh, he’s just pretending. One day the filthy spy is gonna cut Helena’s throat,’ but I would never. Helena saved me, showed me a life I had forgotten, another choice. One besides killing monsters hiding in suits.

“We’re finally moving out!” A woman says to my left, beaming at her friend.

“Really? To where?”

“Bohemen Apartments. Kyle just got a job working for him.”

No, no no no no no no! Peter Bohemen was the next on my list before Helena saved me. He was a dragon: a fire breather burning down the lives of his minions while taxing his residents to grow his pile of gold.

“Don’t! Trust me, you want nothing to do with Peter Bohemen. He’ll have you both out on the street before you even finish moving in,” I say, begging this young woman to trust me. Only the other rich sleeze-balls could afford to stay in Bohemen Luxury Apartments, anyone else was kicked to the curb. I would know. It’s how I ended up on the streets.

“Like you can talk about ‘honesty’ or even basic goodness,” the friend spit at my feet.

“Yeah, stay out of it you villain,” the woman added, turning her back to me.

Two weeks later she came into work, crying and begging that same friend to take in her and her husband.

Everybody wants to judge, but nobody wants to listen.