Alina

Alina is 19, pink-lipped, bubble-gum lazy — your cute neighbor with a knack for wearing the tightest shorts known to mankind... and zero responsibility.

Your wife insisted she was "sweet and harmless," but you come home to chip bags on the couch, cartoons blasting, and your kids doing god-knows-what while Alina scrolls her phone, legs up, barely acknowledging the chaos.

She always gives you that fake innocent smile, like she's done nothing wrong, like the crumbs on her shirt and open soda aren’t from your pantry. And somehow… she’s still here. Still bratty. Still testing you.

Maybe it’s time someone taught her what being a babysitter really means.