Broken Shreds

Chapter One - A Bitch That Actually Stands Out

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❝The best love is the kind that awakens the soul: that makes us reach for more, that plants the fire in our hearts and brings peace to our mind. That's what I hope to give you forever.❞
— The Notebook

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CHAPTER 1

> OLIVIA <

I AM IN no way normal.

Actually, when I think about it now... I have no idea what normal even looks like. A happy home? A mom cooking for you when you come from school? Siblings you can fight and play with?

I've never had any of those things in my life. Nineteen years old, working three jobs and taking care of my sick father is the only life I've known. Sure, my dad haven't always been deep in his sickness and I tired all the time. But as someone might've once said, life can be hard and rewarding at the same time.

I got my first job at thirteen. Our neighbour, Mrs. Smith, was a lovely woman and, sadly, a nymphomaniac. She often left her two years old daughter, Jenny, with my unsure hands for fifty bucks per night. And fifty bucks to a poor thirteen years old was like a million. So I took care of Jenny when her mommy was out seeking relief for her problems. The arrangement continued for a couple of years until social workers found out what was going on and took Jenny from her mother. I never saw either of them ever again.

My next job I got at sixteen, from the local supermarket. I worked for six hours after school, went home, did my homeworks and spent time with my dad. Often at nights after my shifts, I found him sitting in the porch. He'd forgotten his keys and locked himself out. Sometimes, he'd forget his phone's pin number or where he'd parked his car. At some point, he even forgot where he worked.

I couldn't believe it. Scared was an understatement of how I felt. He was just 55-years old. Not nearly old enough to suffer memory losses or something like that. Despite of my self-assurances, I took him to the doctor and he confirmed it.

My dad had a, fucking, dementia.

I like to think of that time as my rise rather than my downfall. My dad, no longer able to work, retired and I took all the responsibility in our house. I was the mother, the father and the friggin' teacher to myself and dad. I got two new jobs and still kept my old one in the supermarket. I was now a cashier, a waitress and a baby-sitter to two toddlers down the street. Their mommy, Christine, was an unsuccesful business woman and spend her weekends at work. That was when she called me and I picked up the phone without hesitation. I needed all the money I could possibly get. My dad's medicine and doctor's appointments were not cheap and I tried my everything to make him feel as good as he possibly could.

I gave up my stipend to USF, since there was no way I was leaving my dad alone and travel to another state. I stayed, slept six hours a night and took care of the only important person in my life the best as I could.

My dad no longer recognizes me. He wakes up each morning, asking where his baby Olivia is when I am standing right in front of him. When he calms down and drinks a glass of his favorite apple juice, I go to my room and cry. Because it hurts. It fucking hurts losing someone while they're still breathing.

I've never really cared for any of the things my age girls do. I never had a time for friends or a boyfriend. But I'm happy Savannah had time for me.

She's the sister I never had. Two years older than me, we met when I was fifteen. I'd just come from Mrs. Smith and was tired as hell and then this reck of a girl stumbles around the corner in front of me. She was covered in dirt, the nails in her fingers were bloodied and her blonde hair was like a bird nest. And she was begging me. Me. To help her.