Daughter of the King - Summer Wishes

Chapter One

After the seemingly endless drive, the car's engine grumbled its final protest before sputtering to a silent stop. Groaning, I peered through the window. The silhouette of apartment buildings loomed before us, crowded together like boxes, haphazard wires weaving around them like ribbons.

Dad's voice, usually booming with life, was a low rumble. "Here we are," he muttered, the words heavy with an undercurrent I couldn't decipher. 

Here where? I thought.

"Ese, take the kids inside while I find parking spot," he said to Mom.

An unusual silence hung in the air as Mom, Tito, and I stepped out of the car. Well, it wasn't entirely unusual; it was the dead of night, and everything that moved seemed fast asleep, except for the creepy owl perched on the rickety fence, of course.

Confusion clouded my mind. I had questions to ask, but  Mom  wore a strange expression and ushered us quietly through the rusty gate.

The compound reeked of damp cardboards and forgotten dreams. Mom cast a pale circle of light from her phone's torch, guiding us towards the first door. Tito clung to me – such a baby. I loved her, but I was wrestling with my own anxieties and now had to worry about her too.

Seconds after entering, Mom flicked on the switch, revealing a cramped living space. Furniture pieces were scattered around like refugees from a garage sale.

She navigated the space with practiced ease, moving towards a corridor. I followed, dragging Tito behind me. "Here's your room," Mom said, gesturing to a doorway at the end of the narrow passage. We stepped inside. The room was barely bigger than a closet, furnished with a single bed and a dented metal locker.

"I cleaned it up earlier," Mom explained, her voice strained. "Just get some sleep."

Before she could finish, Tito scrambled onto the bed, curling into a tiny ball. This whole situation seemed to have gone over her head, as usual. How could she possibly sleep amidst all this chaos?

Frustration bubbled up inside me, but a single glance at Mom quelled it. Her eyes, were dull with exhaustion. A tremor ran through her hands, something I'd never seen before. 

"Mom?" I began, searching for answers in the depths of her weary gaze.

As if sensing my unspoken question, she walked over and gently fluffed my hair, the familiar gesture a balm to my growing unease. "We're all tired, darling," she said softly. "Just rest for tonight. We'll talk in the morning."

The strain in her voice was undeniable.

I nodded as she pulled her hands away and walked towards the door. I watched her go, a million questions swirling in my mind.

"When are we going back home?" I asked, stopping her just before she disappeared into the dimly lit hallway. 

Silence stretched for a moment before she replied, her voice devoid of hope, "This... is home." Then, she vanished into the passage.

Sinking onto the bed beside my sleeping sister, I let out a ragged sigh. Mom's last words echoed in my ears: "This... is home."

Home? This cramped, concrete box?

What else would changed? Dad was barely home anymore. Mom and Dad argued in hushed tones constantly. We hadn't had our usual Friday family dinners in two months, and movie Saturdays with my friends were no longer in the budget according to Dad. Even the amount of milk I used for cereal seemed to bother Mom now. Since when did that matter?

Looking out the window opposite me for some solace, I noticed something unsettling. There was no sky, just another apartment window staring back at me. How was that even possible?

"Ugh, this is crazy," I muttered aloud, drowsiness creeping in. I lay down on the bed.

This was supposed to be the summer of a lifetime, the summer before my senior year, the summer where everything fell into place and my dreams came true.

I had envisioned it meticulously: I was finally old enough to attend sing fest, I would have endless fun with my friends – sleepovers, parties, and picnics – then my grand entrance as a senior. I'd always dreamed of wearing the crisp white senior uniform with a leather jacket, walking down the hallways with a confident stride, books piled in my arms, while the juniors looked on in awe.

Now, those dreams lay shattered on the floor like broken glass. Hot tears welled up in my eyes, blurring the already dismal view. A wave of nausea washed over me, and I fought back a sob. Sleep beckoned a heavy weight on my eyelids. As I drifted off, I whispered "God, please don't let my dreams die."