Dirt Poor

TWENTY-ONE - Grocery Store Shoppers

Enjoy :)

How I was able to hustle home and to the store only being late by a few minutes is beyond me, but I was still thankful.

After Syre left me on the floor of the forest with a ripped shirt and a written claim of my character, I hurried home with my shirt backward, only held together with the backpack. It didn't help that I was now down a shirt. I always tried to keep my clothes in the best condition possible because it was one of the most difficult things to acquire when poor.

Who was I kidding? Everything was hard to obtain when poor.

As soon as I rushed to work I found Brandon to profusely express my apologies for my tardiness which he brushed off and told me not to worry about. Considering I don't make it a habit to be late, it didn't surprise me that Brandon didn't care, but it did nothing to stop the anxiety from festering within.

I worked on calming all of my nerves and anxiety before Kaya showed up. Speaking with her and trying to explain everything between Syre and me...

It was something I was not looking forward to as my mind reeled and reeled with different explanations that I could give that would keep her relatively safe from Syre but also without knowing what was truly going on.

I wasn't her responsibility or Vance's or anyone's for that matter. I wasn't going to burden her with the issues and problems that came along with knowing me.

In this world, it was me. I was the one responsible for it all: for Syre and his constant ridicule and borderline torture, for putting food on the table and a roof over my head, for basic necessities, for everything. It was me. It's always been me. And I had a feeling that it would always be me.

Only me. Forever.

The thought of possibly spending my time and life had crossed my mind numerous times. The image of a small family, individuals who I loved and loved me back, together on a weekday morning after deciding to play hooky at the last minute. The first few rays of sunshine peeking through the fabric curtains that gently sway in the early morning breeze before rays of sunshine explode into the room, filling the space with its glow and warmth. The feel of a heavy arm slung across my waist that pulls me into an equally warm embrace while I simultaneously snuggle into the child in my arms. A bundle of joy with soft golden hair that curled around its face and was a pain to comb and tame, but would always do. Beautiful and big round eyes that I would try my damndest to never let shed a tear out of pain.

I thought about it. Extensively.

I didn't mind thinking about it, dreaming of it because it was something to hold onto during the frozen and fearful nights. And at some point, that dream, that hope--it shifted, fractured, faded away. I wasn't sure when or how it occurred, but thinking about it now made me realize that I can't see it anymore.

I supposed through all the pain, the heartache, I just couldn't bring myself to believe in it anymore. Besides, my childhood has made me scared of the type of person I will turn into in the future. Granted, I truly believe that I would never lift my hand to a child, or anyone for that matter, but the slightest possibility of turning into my father had me scrambling back from the dream.

The first hour of my shift flew by though I supposed it helps to be lost in my own mind for the majority of it. I chewed aggressively on the insides of my cheeks as the minutes wound down to the start of Kaya's shift. And some terribly selfish part of me secretly hoped that she would quit this job at the store after today. It's not like she needed it anyway, but I was a coward who did not want to face her and her questions.

As if she knew I was thinking about her, Kaya walked out to her register. I didn't even notice when she came in through the doors. She was two lanes away from me and when I turned in her direction to get a read on her, she was focused on her opening duties to pay me any mind.