The kitchen drawers? No. The pantry? Maybe. I was startled by the sound of gunfire coming from the other side of the house, Vi must have caught them t...ying to breach, she could handle it.I burst into the pantry, knocking over cans of food as I searched for a box of shells. I cleaned the shelves, there was nothing but tins of beans and spam, fuck. Where else might they be? The attic? The garage? Double fuck, was the garage door closed? Probably not. Adrenaline coursing through my veins as I made. In addition to our jobs—and mine was a lot more than forty hours a week—we ‘managed’ the apartment building, which meant we swept the halls and stairs once a week, shoveled the walks, and called the maintenance people if someone had a problem. It wasn’t too strenuous and got us half off on our monthly rent.I kind of missed the cast parties and basically living together with the theatre department. But I was the youngest of a cast of professionals being given my first job and my Equity card, for. I was able to watch Patrick’s next bout, he overcame his opponent with ease, making his way into the semifinal in his half of the draw.My semifinal came up about an hour later, this allowed us to have as much rest time between rounds as possible. This was to ensure we were in the best fighting condition before the bout started, although I would had preferred to keep on fighting, since it meant you cooled down, then had to do another warm up.In the semi-final I needed to use a lot more movement. I sought help from friends which was useless. I went to the teacher like a teacher’s pet to try and demonstrate that I was really trying to get a higher score but still nothing. I found myself really struggling during my primary school years and I thought that maybe it would just go away as the years went on. Fast forward six years which brings me to the period where my story takes place. I was about to begin my final year of high school; I knew that it was make or break. Once again, I went to.