I wake up in the same old room, in the same old, worn bed. Today should be a special day, but I don’t feel any excitement. I haven’t in years. Grabbing my watch, I checked the time, fighting my drowsiness and tired eyes. 8AM. “Ugh, just five more minutes…” The light peeking in through the numerous holes in my curtains doesn’t seem to care about my want to just pretend I never woke up, though, so I reluctantly get up. I’d best not take long, anyway. I don’t want to get an earful from her again.

I quickly slip on whatever’s most comfortable, being careful to not pull my dresser’s drawer too much as I pick out sweatpants and a white tank top. I don’t like showing that much skin, but it’s too hot for the usual jacket anyway (stupid summer weather), so I leave it at that, and exit my room, skillfully dodging the surprisingly dangerous small hole in the ground near my door. This missing plank problem really needs to be fixed…

“Urgh. Bright…” The painted, clean white walls of the well-lit corridor blind me immediately. I could smell my mother’s breakfast downstairs already, too, almost taunting me. I guess it smells nice, but it’s disgustingly strong to my tastes, and only serves to make me jealous. Does she really have to put in that much effort every day…? Anyway, overcoming this assault on my senses, I slowly drag myself down the marble stairs and into the kitchen.

Once inside, I open the fridge and grab the usual (an apple and a glass of milk) and sit down in front of my mother, who’s been enjoying her own meal already, bacon and eggs with bread. I don’t know how she doesn’t end up eating her own nails with how long they are. If anything, that at least impresses me.

“Hey, mom.”

“Hm? Oh, hello, Paula. Finally awake, are you?” I cringe at the name. I told her about a million times I didn’t want to be called that anymore… not that she cares, evidently. And don’t get me started on all the “she”s and “her”s.

“Well, yeah. Once I was done with my chores, it was 11 already, and I took an hour or so to wri--”

“So you spent over nine hours indulging yourself? Isn’t it a little much?”

“I wouldn’t call sleeping indul--”

“Don’t talk back to your mother. Children should be quiet and listen.”

“So you really don’t know what day it is, huh?”

“…”

“It’s my birthday. I’m 18 now. So not a child anymore.”

“Just because you’re technically an adult doesn’t mean you know anything about anything yet, Paula.” That name is really just a knife to my chest, and her tone continues to be glacial. Despite that, I’m not going to relent.

“I remember you promising you’d listen to me more once I became an adult.” The memory was clear in my mind. She said so around my fifteenth birthday. It was the only thing that really brought me any kind of hope nowadays.

“I never said that. Don’t put words in my mouth. And like I said, you are not an adult. You’ve even said so yourself not so long ago.”

“Huh?” I stare at her, dumbfounded. I don’t remember ever saying that. “I never--”

“YOU HAVE! Do not lie!” She then raised her hand, bearing her claws. I reflexively brought my arms to my shoulders, shielding my chest. “Hmph. Look at you. You really are still just a little girl.” She lowered her arm, and turned towards the living room.

“And don’t forget to do the dishes. It wouldn’t do for you to go hungry on your birthday.”

And with that threat, she left me on my own.

While washing the dishes, I think back on the scene that just went on. My mom… she’s always been this way. She’d be kind one day, and then unrelenting the next. I thought today might go well since she was so pleasant yesterday, but… clearly, I did something to upset her. I mean, it’s always been this way, ever since I was a kid. And no one would hate a kid for no reason, right…?

“I guess I’ll just have to do better next time.” I sigh, putting the last dry plate away. Somehow, though, I don’t feel like I want to go apologize… ugh. Stupid, prideful idiot. This is why you’re all alone.

I’m quickly snapped out of my trance by her yelling from down the hall. “Paula. I’m going out with a friend of mine. I want this place to be spotless when I get home.”

“Hm? Oh, um, alright, Mom. See y--”

Slam. Well. At least, I’m alone with no one to loom over me for some time. Maybe for the whole day. She never tells me what she does, or when she’ll come back, but it’s usually a while before she shows up again. Knowing that, I decide to take some time to myself, against her orders, and lightly jog up to my room, being careful not to put too much weight on my left leg due to that recent bruise.

Slamming the door behind me, I sit in front of my desk and turn on my only solace: my laptop. I got it for myself one day thanks to working enough at various summer jobs. It’s getting really old now, but I’m glad to have it all the same. After waiting for about ten minutes for it to boot up, I quickly log onto my favorite place to be: Clamor. I was never allowed to have friends in real life, so I resorted to finding them online, in chat rooms like these. I knew just who to bother this early in the morning, too: my best friend Alline, or “All_in_E”, to use their pseudonym. She always knows how to make me feel better.

“hey, how’s you?”

“oooh hey Lillian! i’m good, how bout u?”

“could be better. today’s my birthday, but my mom doesn’t care. as usual”

“aah happy birthday!!!! and what do you mean she doesnt care? shouldnt she be with you rn on a day like this?”

“nah. she just doesnt give a shit, never really did. if anything I just got yelled at more than usual for asking for some respect. probably fucked something up again”

“Lillian… dude, that’s just not fair. I know your mom’s always treated you really poorly… but it’s getting worse, isn’t it? Did she still not apologize for the bruise on your leg?” I hold back a chuckle. It’s crazy how fast they switch from casual spelling to fully-serious, always-accurate when she gets serious.

“nah…”

“Okay, listen. You’ve been saving a while, right?”

“ever since i started working. why?”

“Okay, this might sound crazy… but you need to run away.” …wait, did I read this right?

“the fuck, you insane?”

“Listen, friend. I’ve held you through enough breakdowns to know that it’s not gonna get any better… your mom’s abusive. She’s been gaslighting you for as long as I’ve known you, and the physical abuse… god, it makes me angry to hear how much she’s been mistreating you. I know it sounds scary… but it’s really better to be safe, but struggling instead of in constant danger.”

“and what am i supposed to do? live under a bridge?”

“Don’t worry about that. I have a plan. I know a place near you where you can sleep, and a place that might hire you. Here, take a look at this…”

 

 

***

 

 

“Hey, Emmy! You there?”

I’m taken out of my daydreaming by my boss. Oh, right, I’m at work. I was so busy thinking about the latest game I’ve been playing non-stop that I didn’t even realize I had to set the bar up.

“Ah, uh, sorry, Boss. Hehehe…”

“Jeez… you sure are hopeless. It’s kind of cute, but I need you in the here and now, kid. We’re opening soon, and you know how Tuesday nights can get.”

“You mean… mildly frequented?”

“It’s still our busiest day, okay? I’m trying my best. And I don’t see you bringing any customers in. Well, except your worrywart of a brother.” She chuckles at that.

“Haha! Yeah, he’s… protective of me. You should’ve seen his face when I told him I was going to try to be a barista!”

“Knowing him? It must have given him a heart attack. But I’m sure it must have reassured him to know his dear sister was about to work at the Utopia, the greaaatest queer bar this side of the great pyramids!”

“*ahem*. Self-proclaimed. And we’re in America, Boss.”

“Oh, Emmy, you break my heart… where’s the showmanship, huh?”

“Where’s the audience?”

“*snrrrk* Okay, okay… good one, I’ll give you that much. Really though, finish cleaning the counter. There may not be too many patrons yet, but we’re still getting more and more lately, and I want them to come back someday.”

“On it!”

Heh. Same old Boss. Or, well… “Zena Trueblood”, as she likes to introduce herself to our customers. Is that even her real name…? Um, anyway. She’s always a riot. It’s nice to know I can kid around like this with her, even after only a few months here. Though it gets kind of lonely here sometimes… especially on less busy days. It would be nice if someone could joi--

KNOCKKNOCKKNOCKKNOCKKNOCKKNOCK--

“Eeep!”

“The hell is with this ruckus?” Boss shouted at me over the noise. “Go check on this, Em!”

“O-Okay!” Not wanting to endure this hell any longer, I run to the door and fumble with the key, opening it quickly.

“U-Um! It’s n-not nice to make that much n-noi--”

“Hello!” Hm? I expected a tall, burly man to stand behind the door, but… all I see is a kid around my age of ambiguous gender presentation, much smaller than I am.

“Oh, um… can I help you…?” Suddenly, they seem to have lost all the confidence they must have had to knock on that door so loudly. It’s so quiet that I can hear Boss walking towards us and stopping behind me.

“I, uh… please hire me!”

“…What?”

“What!?”