Wheel You Marry Me?

CHAPTER 1.

"Aurora! Aurora! Wake up, you fat bum! There's no food in this house and you're still sleeping!" My mother's voice pierced through the door like an alarm I didn't set. She banged louder, shaking the frame.

I groaned, dragging the blanket over my head. I'd only gotten a few hours of sleep after my night shift. The banging didn't stop.

"If you don't open this damn door, I'm gonna break it!" she screamed.

Defeated, I stumbled out of bed and opened the door. She stood there, hollow-eyed, swaying slightly. Her bloodshot eyes locked onto mine. She scratched at her arm like it was crawling with invisible insects. She always did that when she was high.

"Mum, please... I just got home a few hours ago. I need to sleep," I said softly.

She didn't respond at first. Just stood there tugging at her hair, tears leaking down her cheeks. A familiar pain twisted in my chest.

"What's wrong?"

She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and leaned against the wall.

"I'm... hungry. There's no food."

She stumbled toward the kitchen. I followed, biting back the ache in my throat. I hated seeing her like this. This shell of a woman who once held a job, a life, a future. I had tried everything, therapy, intervention, rehab. She always escaped. Always relapsed.

She collapsed onto the kitchen table, drooling, eyes already fluttering closed.

The front door creaked open.

"Morning, Aurora," Jeffrey said, holding a paper bag like a trophy.

"Morning, sweetheart. Where'd you get that?"

He hesitated. "I used the money I was saving."

I frowned. "Jeffrey, no. That money was for you. I told you, I'll handle things."

"You already do too much," he said. "I wanted to help."

God, I loved that kid. Fourteen, and already more man than the one who made him. We shared a mother, not a father and neither of us knew who they were. Still, he was the light in this dark house. Even when kids at school mocked him for having a junkie mom, he never stopped smiling.

I sighed, pulled him into a hug. "Thanks, Jeff. Now go change, I'll make breakfast."

While I made scrambled eggs and bacon, my mum woke up just long enough to shovel food into her mouth like she hadn't eaten in weeks.

"Mum! Slow down! You'll choke," Jeffrey said gently.

She laughed, but her eyes were empty. After breakfast, Jeffrey headed to school, his backpack bouncing as he walked out.

I looked at my mother curled up on the couch. The same routine every day....TV, high, sleep. I couldn't take it anymore. I grabbed the remote from her.

"Why'd you do that?" she snapped.

"You need to do something, Mum. You can't just sit around high all day."

"I don't have a job!"

"Then get one!" I shouted, more bitterly than I intended. Before she could snatch the remote back, I flung it out the open window.

She screamed. "Aurora! Go get it right now!"

"Keep dreaming," I muttered, walking away. Her voice followed me, hurling insults like knives.

I slammed my door shut and slid down to the floor, burying my face in my hands. I didn't want this life. I was twenty years old, and I felt sixty.

My alarm buzzed. Time for work. I showered quickly, tied my curls into a ponytail, and slipped on a simple black dress. My body filled it out more than I liked. Wide hips. Thick thighs. In high school, they called me Fatty. The word still echoed in my head.

I wiped away my fake tears and wore my fake smile.

As I passed the living room, I saw her sniffing a line of cocaine. Blood trickled from her nose.

"Mum..." I whispered.

She mumbled something incoherent and passed out. I cleaned the table, wiped the blood, and covered her with a blanket. Then I left.

It took fifteen minutes to walk to Skylar's Coffee House, the only place that ever felt remotely like home. I was exhausted.

Skylar stood behind the counter. "Hey, Aurora."

"Hey, Sky," I said, barely lifting my lips into a smile.

She looked at me and frowned. "You didn't sleep again, did you?"

"Not really. Mum woke me up early."

She stepped around the counter and hugged me. "Go home, babe. Rest. I got this."

"I can't. I need the money."

Before she could argue, the door opened. Three guys walked in. My heart sank.

Douglas. Scott. Ryan.

They'd been best friends since childhood. Trust fund babies. The kind of guys who thought the world owed them luxury. Last summer, they went racing. Ryan crashed, and now he was in a wheelchair, bitter, smug, and twice as cruel.

They took their usual booth. Scott yelled across the room, "Hey Skylar! Tell Fatty to bring us three lattes and croissants!"

Skylar's eyes narrowed. "Scott, you know her name's Aurora."

"Don't care. Just bring the coffee!"

Ryan grinned like a villain. "And make it hot this time. Not like last time."

I bit the inside of my cheek, holding back rage. I grabbed the tray and took it to their booth. Just as I turned to leave, Ryan grabbed my wrist.

"Who said you could go, Fatty?" he sneered.

"What do you want?" I spat.

He lifted the cup, pretended to sip, and dumped it on the floor. "This latte's cold."

"Ryan Tyler!" Skylar shouted. "This is the last time you throw anything in my shop! You're not a child!"

He laughed, smug and shameless. I jerked my hand free and walked away.

Skylar followed me. "I'm so sorry, Aurora. Sit down, I'll clean it up."

My hands were shaking. Anger bubbled up, too hot to hold.

The door opened again. Theodore.

"Aurora, are you okay?" he asked, concerned.

"I'm fine. Just leave me alone."

His face fell, but he nodded. Theodore was kind, too kind. He liked me more than I wanted him to. Sometimes I wished I could love him back. But I didn't.

As Ryan and his hyenas left, he rolled over to me and smirked.

"Don't forget, Fatty. You still owe me a latte."

He laughed, and the door slammed shut behind them.

I stood there in silence, rage pressing against my chest like a scream I couldn't let out.