Child of Mayhem (sneak peek!)

4

There are three places you would probably meet the love of your life.

One: high school.

Two: college.

Three: work.

Rara didn't meet her soulmate in high school. Neither did she meet him in college. She didn't meet him either when she worked at the restaurant. After being fired from her third job in a year she decided she might end up being single forever.

But ending up single and alone wasn't as bad as ending up single and alone and homeless. She had her fair share of moments where she spent days surviving on chips, but she always had the option of going back home. Now that her mother had sold the only house they had and left the country she was torn in making a huge decision, whether to become homeless or learn to control her egoistic personality.

She observed the shabby apartment before her, strapped on her backpack and proceeded to carry her bicycle up the stairs. The place seemed like it had been abandoned since the sixties, even worse that there wasn't an elevator. She was thankful that her sisters stayed on the first floor despite being out of breath by the time she arrived in front of their door.

She knocked twice. No one answered. She banged on the door a few times. "Husna, open up! It's me!"

She jammed a bobby pin into the keyhole. After a few twists and turns the door opened on its own, surprising her. She froze in her spot, still hunched over with the bobby pin between her fingers, as a long-haired woman appeared with a raised eyebrow. She had a beat-up bag slung across and wore white pants, a mint green blouse and a grey cardigan on top.

"Are you trying to pick the lock?" the woman asked, no shock in her voice.

"Maybe?" As Rara straightened, someone shouted from inside the apartment.

"Who's at the door?" Another woman emerged, dressed in a dark red uniform blazer and skirt. She frowned at Rara. "What are you doing here?" She asked the other woman, "What is she doing here?"

"Good to see you, too, Damia." Rara studied her sisters. Her oldest sister, Husna, seemed like an exhausted old woman despite being in her early thirties, whereas her second older sister, Damia, appeared like she was ready to walk the runway. Regardless of how they looked, being with them for no more than three minutes showed that they hadn't changed at all since they last saw each other.

Without waiting for an invitation, Rara welcomed herself inside. The place was tiny. Literally, tiny. She measured that it would take five steps to reach the bathroom, another five to the bedrooms. To her right was a kitchen with a refrigerator, a microwave and the basic essentials such as a sink and a stove.

"You knew she was coming?" Rara heard Damia say.

"Didn't I tell you?" Husna asked.

"No?"

"I called Husna and told her I needed a place to crash," Rara explained as she kicked off her shoes and made herself at home in the kitchen. There wasn't much in the refrigerator except for vegetables, a bottle of water, a carton of low-fat milk and a can of tuna. "It's only for a week until I find a place."

Husna looked at her suspiciously. "Did you get fired again?"

She explored the cabinet and discovered a loaf of brown bread and a jar of peanut butter. "Look, I wouldn't have come here if I wasn't desperate," she said, and her seriousness caught Husna's attention. "They found me."

"Who?" Damia asked from the living room.

"Who else? Aziz and the gang."

Both Husna and Damia paled.