𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐑: Hope
Louis and Aimée Cartier are two kids living in four walls of complete nightmare. Ever since their mom overdosed Louis stepped in as the parental figure for Aimée. In Louis's world, his sister was a top priority, even if that meant...
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The leftover Mac and Cheese only lasted us a few days, I ate as little as I could to try to preserve it but it didn't help very much.
Glancing down at my torn-up wallet that holds a five-dollar bill, I sigh. Despite people's assumptions, poor people, like myself, often eat out more than cooking up something at home. It wasn't the healthiest option by no means but it was the cheapest.
I quickly order the chicken nugget happy meal and make my way toward the back where Aimée sits.
"Here." I place the box in front of her and she rubs her eyes tiredly, opening it.
I feel bad for making her wait this late to eat, it's nine and she has school tomorrow. But I don't have a car and the walk is long.
You've gone days without eating, what's a few hours going to do to her? My inner voice screams.
It's different, she's my sister. It's my job to make sure she eats, I come last in my list of priorities.
"Aren't you going to eat?" Aimée asks, dipping her nugget into the sauce.
I shake my head, my stomach growling. Pushing the box closer to her I say: "Don't worry, I'll eat at school tomorrow."
Aimée stays silent, looking down at her food. I try and act normal, like everything's peachy, but it's not. I'm on the verge of losing my job because I show up late everyday, my grades are dropping, and I have no money and my wallet because it was spent on...Aimée's...thing?
FOUR DAYS EARILER
I knock on the locked bathroom door. "Hey, I fixed your shoe," I say, glancing down at her high tops that have duct tape at the toe. She's been complaining since last week and I didn't have enough money to buy her a new pair but this will do.
"Aimée?" I question when she doesn't respond. "You're going to be late for school."
She cracks the door open a little, revealing her puffy cheeks and tussled blonde hair.
I swallow harshly, looking her up and down for any injuries. She's wearing PJ shorts and one of my old T-shirts.
"Louis," she sobs, throwing herself into me. I stumble back, wrapping a arm around her shoulders.
"What's the matter?" I ask hurriedly.
She only reaches right below my shoulders. I must of gotten my tall genes from my Dad—wherever the man is—, I'm 6'1 and Aimée's only 4'7.
"Je meurs," she mumbles into my shirt. (I'm dying)
I glance around looking for our stepfather, but sigh in relief when I realize he left for the bar.
I crouch down in front of her, placing my hands on her shoulders. "Aimée, did something happen with Mike? I need you to tell me right now if something did."
