Coming Clean — Meyari McFarland

Sweat-stale air that stank of blood and vomit puddled around Phoenix as they drooped against the pear-shaped airlock door blocking them from home. Blood dripped down their cheek. Cleaning up was going to be a joy.

Phoenix really didn't need the bruises Reilly's gang had given them. Didn't need a call from Mother even more but that's what they got as they straggled home.

Didn't matter. Phoenix was free and clear and they were staying free. No matter what it took.