chronometer

regression

A/N: SURPRISE!!! I finished my chapter earlier than I thought. I considered waiting until tomorrow to post it but decided that I'd just give it to you today because A) I'm going to be busy working on college stuff tomorrow and B) I'm such a sucker for seeing everyone's reaction. As always thank you to those of you who comment and follow me etc. It means a lot and is super encouraging! 

Bad news is that I'm going to have three days of work in a row so my next update will be a week or two away, but I don't think that's too long! Hopefully sooner. We shall see! Enjoy!

When my shift ends, I collect my timeshare. My wrist presses against the scanner, and I feel the numbers climb in my veins. When it finishes, I check. One week and two days. One fucking week, basically. I'm seething, and I feel like I could punch the guy behind the metal screen until he's bleeding. Unfortunately I'd be killed for that, plus I'm not the only one who got the shitty end of the share. I glance to the guy who went before me. He only got six days. My blue eyes return to the man's, the one who is sitting behind the protective wire.

"Why am I not getting more? I met my quota for the day." My voice is husky and harsh, but I've had enough of this bullshit.

"It changed." He spares me no further explanation and now I really want to deck him.

"Would it kill you to tell us that? I have people to take care o--" I'm cut off by the man behind me shoving me away with a roll of his eyes. I send a death glare his way and move along despite every cell in my body telling me to argue with that idiot behind the counter some more. Not that it would get anywhere, but I'm tired of saying nothing.

The walk home is blistering, and I have the displeasure of scanning my eyes along the streets in observation. Children and parents line it, drinking water from dirty buckets or begging to an extra day or two. Eventually I come across a mother who is holding her newborn baby. In her other hand is a sign that begs for help. Her arm reads that she only has ten hours left. With a sad grimace, I reach my arm out to her.

"My mom is single, too. Let me help you." My words bring tears to her eyes, and she sets the sign down to reach out to me. I take her wrist and she takes mine. Our arms twist until her numbers are facing up, mine down. Her numbers shuffle for a few seconds, thumping filling our ears, before two extra days flash across it. We release each other, and I'm left with a solid week.

"Th-Thank you so much..." She cries, and I take her hand. My thumb brushes across it.

"I wish I could give you more." I let go, waving goodbye as I continue down the dirt road.

Once I'm home, my bag drops onto the floor next to the doorframe and I groan obnoxiously. My mom and I live in a small apartment. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, one living room mixed in with a small dining area and a small kitchen. It's enough for us, and easy to maintain.

I immediately stroll into the kitchen where I expect her to be, and I'm right as usual. She's standing next to the sink, washing fresh lettuce under chilled water. I clear my throat to get her attention, and she jumps like she always does. She turns around after settling, a bright smile adorning her features. Her arms stretch out to hug me, I allow my forehead to press against her shoulder. Her presence gives me complete solace, and I relax in her arms. A few moments later she releases me, placing both of her hands on my cheeks.

"How was your day, Scott? You look tired. I'm making dinner right now." Her voice is soothing like a true mother's voice, and I can't help but feel myself becoming just slightly drowsy at the therapeutic ring it holds.

"It was the same as usual, hot and everything was heavy. They changed the expectation again. I really almost hit someone." Her face lightened, and she laughed.