Our boss was screaming and yelling at some of the other workers who were, by his words, not doing their job right. I let out a shaky sigh as I continued to do my work. I would occasionally glance over my shoulder, hooping he didn’t come over and start yelling at me. I had gotten a little slower at my work because of the many cuts that filled my hands. It was hard to find an untouched spot of my hand with all the scars and cuts on them. I turn my head to the left to see one of my coworkers. She was about my age so I didn’t feel alone here. She broke her arm while working so she goes pretty slowly too. We were both here for a reason. We were both part of families that needed help. Every cent I would make would help my family. I work for my family. Because my family is what’s important to me. Everything I do is for my family.