Third Person's PoV
Skyler felt the weight of stares boring into her back, the kind that prickled her skin and set her nerves on edge. The source: her co-workers, a clique of glossy lips and mascara-laden lashes, whose every pout and whisper seemed laced with silent judgments.
"Sky!" The sharp call of her name cut through the hum of the diner, sending a jolt of anxiety through her. It was Ms. Louise, her voice a harbinger of trouble. Skyler's heart sank; she knew that tone all too well.
With a clumsy urgency, she navigated the maze of tables, her apron swishing against her legs. Ms. Louise stood at the kitchen's threshold, her posture rigid with indignation.
"Some customers have been less than impressed with their service," Ms. Louise began, her words dripping with disdain. "They described a waitress who seemed... lost, unable to perform the simplest tasks. Now, who do you suppose they were talking about?"
Skyler's response lodged in her throat, the words refusing to form. Ms. Louise's grip was iron on her wrist, her nails digging in like talons.
"I ought to toss you out on the street, where such incompetence belongs!" Ms. Louise hissed, her breath hot against Skyler's ear.
But Skyler stood firm, her gaze meeting Ms. Louise's with a quiet defiance. She was more than the sum of her mistakes, more than the harsh words and scornful looks. She was Skyler Greene, and she would not be broken.
The world tilted, a disorienting spin as Ms. Louise's palm struck Skyler's cheek with a force that echoed through the diner. The sharp sting radiated, a cruel reminder of her vulnerability.
Around her, the diner seemed to shrink, the walls closing in as her co-workers gathered like spectators at a spectacle, their eyes wide but their voices silent.
"I-I... w-why?" Skyler's voice trembled, a mix of pain and bewilderment. "I'm not the only one here, Ms. Louise. What if—what if I'm not the one they're complaining about? I've been diligent, I've—"
"Silence!" Ms. Louise's voice sliced through her stammering. "Your excuses are as worthless as your service. You're fired! Out!"
The grip on her wrist was a vise, unyielding and cold. Then, a shove, and Skyler's world crashed down with her, the cold marble of the floor a stark contrast to the heat of her flushed cheek.
Lying there, the murmurs and gasps of the onlookers a distant buzz, Skyler's thoughts spiraled. Why was peace so elusive? Why did every moment of stillness come laced with the threat of chaos?
But even as despair threatened to engulf her, a spark of defiance flickered within. This would not be her end. Not here, not now. Skyler Greene was more than a moment of weakness, more than the scorn of those who didn't see her worth. She would rise, but first, she would allow herself this moment to feel the injustice, to acknowledge the pain, and to gather the strength she needed to stand again.
"No! Sky, are you okay?"
Macy's voice was a lifeline in the tumultuous sea of Skyler's thoughts. Gentle but firm, Macy's hand clasped Skyler's wrist, steadying her as she was pulled to her feet.
"I'll g-go now. Bye, Macy," Skyler murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She willed her legs to carry her, each step a battle against the gravity of humiliation that sought to drag her down.
As she passed through the diner's exit, the cool embrace of the evening air kissed her flushed skin, offering a fleeting solace. Skyler didn't need anyone, not even Macy. Not now. The world outside was vast, but her breaths came in short, sharp gasps, as if the open space around her was shrinking, pressing in on her lungs.
Her head spun, a carousel of dizziness, begging her to succumb. 'Not now,' she pleaded inwardly.
"Sky! Wait!" The urgency in Macy's voice halted her escape. A hand, Macy's hand, gripped her shoulder, spinning her around. "Please, meet me at the bus stop later, around nine. My shift ends at 8:30. I know it sounds crazy, but I'm your only friend, and I need you to trust me. Are you listening?"
Skyler's eyes met Macy's, a storm of emotions swirling within. Trust was a currency she'd become frugal with, yet in Macy's earnest gaze, she found a glimmer of hope, a reason to believe that perhaps, she wasn't entirely alone.
Sky's frown deepened as Macy guided her to the nearest café, a sanctuary from the chaos of the world outside. She allowed herself to be seated, a sudden dizziness overwhelming her senses. The need for air was pressing; she couldn't let Macy witness her unraveling. Her anxiety, a relentless beast, clawed at her composure with vigor.
Amidst the turmoil, Sky hadn't noticed the diner's uniform clinging to her frame—a stark reminder of the day's labor. Her hands betrayed her with their tremble, and her lips quivered, barely holding back the dam of tears threatening to break. She willed them away fiercely.
Macy, ever the anchor, held Sky's hand with a gentle firmness as she sat, agitated, in the secluded corner of the café. "Wait here, let me just order something for us. Okay?" Macy's voice was a lifeline in the stormy sea of Sky's emotions.
But Sky was adrift, pleading through her tears, which now flowed freely despite her best efforts to contain them. "N-no. I'm o-okay. J-just please let me go h-home," she stammered, the words barely a whisper. "D-don't b-bother to take c-care o-of m-me. I'm n-not w-worth y-your time, M-macy."
Macy's response, though unheard, was evident in her unwavering gaze—a silent promise that she would weather this storm alongside Sky, no matter the cost.
Skyler's eyes were brimming with tears, a silent testament to the years of struggle she had endured. For nearly three years, she had poured her soul into the diner, a stark contrast to Ms. Louise's single year of service. Despite this, Macy was resolute, her voice a beacon of hope amidst the uncertainty. "No, don't say that! You've worked too hard to give up now. I'll make sure you can stay," she declared, leaving Skyler to her hot chocolate and a moment of solitude.
Skyler's voice trembled as much as her feet, her plea barely above a whisper. "Macy, please. I need t-to go home." The tears continued their relentless flow, like a downpour with no end in sight. She rose, avoiding Macy's gaze, a habit born from a deep-seated aversion to eye contact. "I'm l-leaving," she stated, her resolve as shaky as her voice.
Macy's tone softened to a whisper, her words carrying the weight of unspoken promises. "But remember, meet me at the bus stop at nine. We don't have to talk now, but we will later. I only want what's best for you, Sky." Her voice trailed off, leaving an echo of concern in the air.
"I will," Skyler conceded, her heart heavy. "J-just let me go home." The words hung between them, a fragile bridge over the chasm of their shared worries.
Skyler left the diner, the hot chocolate Macy had ordered untouched, its steam rising in vain. As the door closed behind her, the warmth of the diner was replaced by the chill of her own thoughts. "I'm so worthless, I don't deserve happiness, I'm an ugly mess," she berated herself, a cruel echo of past torments.
The cacophony of her parents' yelling and curses haunted her, as vivid and scathing as if it were only yesterday. In her mind's eye, they were still there, their voices a relentless storm of anger, while she curled into a ball, seeking refuge under a thick blanket, bracing for the inevitable pain that would follow.
***
Mary Joye.