The morning sun filtered through Ashley's small, dingy bedroom window, casting slanted beams across the room as her torn curtains fluttered in the breeze. The golden rays illuminated the cracks in the plaster walls, highlighting the peeling paint and the clutter of worn-out textbooks on her desk. It was a Saturday morning, a day Ashley usually dedicated to cleaning the house, ensuring that at least one corner of her chaotic life remained somewhat under control.
With a sigh, she swung her legs out of bed, the old mattress creaking under her weight. Kneeling beside her bed, she folded her hands in prayer, whispering softly for strength and guidance. Life had not been kind to her family, but she clung to hope like a lifeline.
The day before, she had managed to secure a temporary job as a waitress at a small, dingy diner on the outskirts of town. The owner had reluctantly agreed to hire her just for the weekend today afternoon and tomorrow night for a meager pay of fifty dollars. It wasn't much, but it was a lifeline for her and her family. Just enough to help get through another week, she thought grimly.
When her prayers were done, Ashley made her way to the cramped bathroom. She brushed her teeth quickly, splashing cold water on her face in an attempt to shake off the remnants of sleep. Her reflection in the mirror revealed tired eyes, shadowed with exhaustion, but she ignored it. Today was a day for work, not self-pity.
Descending the narrow staircase, the scent of frying eggs reached her, surprising her. In the small, cluttered kitchen, Alex stood at the stove, spatula in hand, flipping eggs with an intensity that was rare for him. Normally, his mornings were dedicated to lazing around, his focus reserved solely for video games.
"Good morning," Ashley greeted as she approached, tying her hair back into a messy ponytail.
Alex glanced at her with a smirk. "Morning. Didn't think you'd wake up this early on a Saturday," he teased, though his tone was light.
Ashley rolled her eyes but smiled. "Are you going somewhere today?" she asked, eyeing him suspiciously. It wasn't like Alex to take on chores unless he needed something.
He hesitated, then turned to her, his expression shifting. "Actually... I was hoping you could help me out," he began cautiously. "I need twenty dollars for some textbooks. The teachers said it's mandatory."
Ashley's suspicion deepened, but she couldn't exactly refuse him. "If I get paid for the waitress job, I'll give you the money," she promised, heading towards the corner where they kept the broom and mop. The house needed to be cleaned before she left, or it would become even more of a mess.
Just as she started sweeping, their mother walked into the kitchen. Her eyes were weary, framed by dark circles that hinted at sleepless nights. Her once-vibrant spirit seemed dulled by years of hardship and disappointments.
"Good morning, Mom," Ashley and Alex greeted in unison.
Their mother nodded, managing a faint smile. "Good morning, my loves. I hope you slept well." She reached into her worn handbag, pulling out the crumpled bills she had managed to earn from her overnight shift at the factory. Quietly, she handed the cash to Ashley.
"Keep it safe," she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. "Your father... he'll just take it for gambling if he finds it."
Ashley's heart ached as she pocketed the money. The familiar pit of dread settled in her stomach. She knew what her mother feared her father's addiction had nearly destroyed them countless times. This was the only way to make sure they could afford food for the week and pay off some of their mounting bills.
****
After hours of scrubbing floors, dusting shelves, and tidying up the small, cramped house, Ashley finally finished cleaning. She took a quick shower, letting the cold water wash away the grime and fatigue. She dressed in the only presentable outfit she owned a simple blouse and jeans ready to head to her waitress job.
As she made her way downstairs, the smell of the eggs Alex had cooked still lingered in the air. She scooped up her portion onto a small plate and sat down to eat, savoring the rare treat of a hot breakfast. Just as she took her first bite, she heard the front door creak open, and her father stumbled into the house.
He looked rough his hair unkempt, clothes wrinkled, and eyes bloodshot. The smell of stale cigarettes and cheap alcohol clung to him like a second skin. Ashley's heart sank; she knew this wouldn't be a peaceful encounter.
"Is your mother back?" he asked, his voice low and raspy, as if he'd been shouting all night.
"Yeah," Alex replied flatly, not bothering to look up from the television.
Ashley kept her head down, hoping to finish her meal before the inevitable confrontation. But before she could swallow her last bite, her father was suddenly in front of her, his eyes wild with desperation.
"Your mother gave you the money, didn't she?" he demanded, his tone growing more aggressive with each passing second. "Hand it over."
Ashley clenched her fists under the table, refusing to meet his gaze. "I didn't get anything from her," she lied, her voice as steady as she could manage.
Alex, sensing the tension rising, shot his sister a quick look of support. "Yeah, Dad, she didn't get anything," he added, trying to back her up.
But their father wasn't convinced. His eyes narrowed, and in a flash, he lunged at Ashley, his large, calloused hands wrapping around her throat. The world tilted as she struggled to breathe, his grip tightening like a vice. "I know you're lying!" he hissed, his face inches from hers, eyes filled with a desperate rage.
Ashley's vision blurred, black spots dancing in front of her eyes. Her instincts screamed at her to give in, to hand over the money and end the torment, but Alex's silent plea kept her grounded. He was counting on her to be strong this time.
"Dad, stop!" Alex shouted, stepping forward. "If Ashley had the money, she would've given it to you by now! She's not hiding anything!"
For a moment, the pressure on her throat eased. Their father's shoulders slumped, and he released her, his expression wavering between anger and exhaustion. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, a broken man consumed by his addiction.
"Please... if you have anything, just give it to me," he begged, dropping to his knees. "I promise I'll stop this time. I just need it to pay off my debt... one last time."
Ashley's heart twisted painfully, but she knew better than to believe his promises. She had heard them all before each one as hollow as the last. The image of him swearing he'd change, only to fall back into the same destructive cycle, was seared into her memory.
"I'm sorry, Dad," she said softly, her voice filled with a sorrow she couldn't hide. "I don't have anything to give you."
Defeated, her father slowly got up and stumbled out of the house. Ashley watched him leave, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. She knew he wouldn't give up easily; he'd be out in the streets, searching for any means to get the money he so desperately needed.
"I feel bad for him sometimes," Alex muttered, shaking his head as he turned back to the television.
Ashley swallowed the lump in her throat and forced herself to focus on the task at hand. She couldn't afford to dwell on her father's broken promises. "I need to get going," she said, adjusting her rumpled clothes. She grabbed her worn-out backpack and headed for the door.
****
As Ashley walked out of the house, she couldn't shake the heavy weight pressing down on her chest. But she squared her shoulders and kept walking. Today wasn't about her father's broken promises or the struggles at home it was about survival.
The diner where she would be working was a good distance away, but she was determined to make it on time. Fifty dollars might not be much to most people, but to her, it was everything. It was hope.
As she made her way down the crowded streets, she prayed that maybe, just maybe, this small job would be the start of something better.