Gravity

Uber

It had been a turbulent two years for Juliana, but that wasn't a foreign concept her. Her whole life had been full of upheaval, uncertainty and lies, but she finally felt like her life had hit a plateau. Normal people living normal lives would often consider this a setback; experiencing a certain monotony in their day-to-day can be a sort of life crisis for some. But for Juliana, it was a welcome relief. For once in her young life, she had hit her stride. Granted, she was working hard, busting her gut in two jobs to help her mother, Lupe, out with the bills. But the work was easy and it kept her busy, leaving her with little time to wonder about what else she should be doing with her life.

Routine and stability had never been something Juliana had growing up. She was sixteen when she discovered her father was not actually a truck driver. His long absences and need for extended rest on his return were not due to the nature of his work. Juliana found out late one night, when she was asleep on the pull out couch that doubled as her bed. She'd had a big day at school where she won an art contest. She raced home with her painting and gift certificate she'd won to proudly show her parents, only to find the trailer empty. A note had been left on the kitchen counter of their tiny home in Lupe's distinct handwriting. She had been called into work early and wouldn't be home for dinner. Chino was supposed to be home two days ago but he was yet to show up. Juliana spent the afternoon and evening catching up on her homework, cooked herself a small meal and took herself off to bed, leaving a bedside lamp on in the only bedroom of the small trailer in anticipation of her mothers arrival.

Juliana was woken by a commotion outside of her window, accompanied by gruff voices and the scattering of gravel. She was disoriented at first, but it was obvious Chino's voice was among them. To her constant disappointment, her father hadn't really been present throughout her life. Even when he was around, he often ignored her, pretended she didn't exist. Every now and then, after a night of heavy drinking, Juliana would wake up to Chino sitting on her bed, watching her through piercing blue eyes. When she would ask the man what he was doing, he would mumble something about Juliana looking nothing like him, and that she couldn't possibly be his. She tried not to show him how much it hurt her, but sometimes it was hard to hide the hurt she felt when he dismissed her as nothing significant, as just something else to deal with, a burden.
She'd overheard plenty of her parents arguments over the years. It was impossible to avoid listening to them in the tiny space they shared. The flimsy bedroom door did very little to keep noise in or out. When they would argue about Lupe's fidelity, or Juliana's paternity, she would reach for her well-loved music device and earphones and do her best to shut out the screaming, squeezing her eyes tightly shut to hold in the tears.

Hearing Chino's voice along with others outside the trailer surprised her. He never brought anyone back to the trailer. Juliana considered rolling over and pretending she hadn't heard anything, but the tone of voices intrigued her. After some time had passed, curiosity got the better of her. Juliana stood and walked to the door, pushing it open. Three men stood surrounding Chino who was on his knees in the dirt. All four men looked up at her when the door swung back and hit the metal cladding on the outside of the trailer.

"Juliana. Go back inside." Chino's voice was rough and choked. She noticed immediately the blood on his face and the swollen eye.

"What's going on?" Juliana asked timidly, her brain still processing the scene in front of her.

"Chino. What have we here? Have you been holding out on us?" One of the men leered. He stepped one foot closer to her, his smile sending a shiver down her spine.

"Leave her. She has nothing to do with this." Chino spoke through gritted teeth.

"Why didn't you tell us you were keeping some young pussy around?" Another man sniggered, his hand resting on his crutch as he spoke.