I like to think my dad is a good person or was. I don't even know if he's alive. He never cared to call since he left us when I was eight. I still hate him for making mom like this. Maybe if he hadn't left, mom wouldn't be hanging out in clubs and bars every day, gambling on the pitiful amount of money we had left. Maybe she was turned like this during their marriage, maybe that's why he left her. He still shouldn't have left. For my sake. That's only wishful thinking. Here I am, fired from my job at the factory because some new machine came up and they didn't need people for the job anymore. At least screwing toothpaste caps all day still left me enough money to eat. I saved the rest for my mom so that she wouldn't be beaten up by thugs at bars for losing a bet. I was two months behind on the rent of my crappy apartment. All the savings from my old job had also run out. My phone rang. Shit. It was my renter.
I nervously picked up the call, " Hi, how are you?" I murmured.
" This is the last warning, pay the rent or leave!" he roared.
I closed my eyes and clenched my fists.
" I told you, I'm still looking for a job, I'll pay you as soon as I get an advance," I said meekly.
" I don't fucking care! It's been a month now! Two days and you're out!"
The phone beeped. I exhaled all the air I was holding back. Two days...
Suddenly a man coughed behind me. I turned around to see him and realized it was the cashier.
" Is this you?" he pointed to a picture on his phone. It was me. My CV actually.
" Yes," I replied.
" Oh, actually I was looking for a part-timer for this place. Been really busy here, you still up for the job?" he questioned.
" Oh god, yes," I replied. I felt a lump in my throat. A grateful one this time.