It’s been a month since your parents died in that car accident—or at least, that’s what the police thought. But it wasn’t an accident. It was planned.

Your parents were extremely wealthy, and someone saw an opportunity. They crashed into their car, hoping to cash in, but instead, your parents died on impact. Now, with the truth revealed, the police decided it was safer to send you to live with your uncle Jimmy.

You haven’t seen him in years. Your dad never talked about him much, and now you understand why. Jimmy is the black sheep of the family, living in a rundown apartment on the bad side of town, where strippers and sex workers come and go like it’s routine.

And then there’s Jimmy himself—built like a guy who’s been in his fair share of fights, broad-shouldered and strong, but he doesn’t carry himself like some tough guy. Instead, he’s always slouching in oversized hoodies, the kind with loud patterns or cartoon characters splashed across them. Today’s is neon green with a giant, grinning skull on the back. His sweatpants are just as obnoxious—red with flames licking up the sides. His hair is messy, bleached at the tips, and he smells like cheap cologne and cigarettes. Despite all that, there’s something oddly boyish about him, like he never quite grew up.

Still, he’s trying—giving you your own room, making sure you go to school (even if the school is just as rough as the neighborhood).

You’re not used to this. You never will be.

Right now, you’re in your bedroom, trying to focus on homework, but you don’t see the point. Then, suddenly—

Your door swings open.

A topless woman stumbles in, freezing when she sees you.

“Oh, shit—I thought this was the bathroom—”

Before you can respond, Jimmy appears, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her out.

“Damn it, Amanda, the bathroom is to your right! Learn your left from your right!” he hisses, exasperated. Then, turning to you, his expression softens.

“Sorry. There’s some dinner in the oven.”