Cindy wiped down the kitchen counter angrily, scrubbing at the crumbs that had been there all morning. She hated it. Hated the way the grease stained the corners of the countertop, hated the way the broom always seemed to pick up dust when she was in the middle of sweeping. But mostly, she hated how she was the only one who seemed to do anything. The only one who cared because she had to.

Her foster sister, Nia, strutted past, her freshly braided hair swinging as she twirled in her brand-new sneakers. She smirked at Cindy, who was barefoot, wearing faded sweatpants that had seen better days.

"Bet you wish you could look this good," Nia teased, spinning once for effect.

Cindy shot her a look. "If looking like you leaves me just as brainless as you, girl, I'll take me and these counters any day."

Nia rolled her eyes. "Tsh, you just jealous, ho."

Cindy snorted. "Of what? The extra oxygen left over in yo' empty head? Girl, please!"

"How 'bout I fix yo' attitude?" Nia smirked, hands on her hips. "Momma she out, takin' a break, and these counters lookin' raggedy up in here!"

Before Cindy could fire back, the sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway. Bernice's voice boomed into the kitchen, sharp and impatient. "Cindy! What the hell is this mess? You didn't scrub this counter right."

Nia turned around with a smug laugh. "Oh, that changed yo' face, didn't it?"

Cindy didn't flinch. She'd heard that tone before. "Whatchu think I'm doin'?" she muttered under her breath.

Bernice stormed into the kitchen, arms crossed, heels clicking sharply against the floor. Her face wore a permanent frown like she'd been practicing it for years. "Whatchu say? You must think I'm playin' or somethin'? You think you finna do some half-ass work around here and I ain't gone say nothin', huh?"

Cindy shot her a sharp, defiant look. "I'm cleanin', ain't I? Whatchu want me to do? Duplicate myself? There's a lotta that goin' on around here as it is." She side-eyed Bernice's fat belly.

Bernice gasped, her mouth hanging open in shock, but Cindy didn't back down. She knew she was walking a fine line. " I said it."

Bernice narrowed her eyes, and the air thickened with tension. Without warning, she grabbed Cindy's face roughly, forcing her to look her in the eye. "You better watch that mouth, girl, 'fore I slap it right outta you."

Cindy snatched her face away. "Thas nice," she muttered, keeping her cool.

Bernice's voice dropped to a low, menacing growl. "You think I won't?"

Cindy knew she wasn't bluffing, but something about Bernice made her blood boil. She wasn't afraid anymore, not like when she was younger, but she wasn't about to make it worse. She wasn't tryna be locked up in the basement again, sleeping beside the washer and dryer for weeks with only bread and water for nourishment. So, she took a deep breath and kept scrubbing. "Look, I'm just doin' what you told me to do. Do you want it clean or not? Make up yo' mind."

"As you should be," Bernice snapped, her hands landing on her hips. Cindy rolled her eyes.

"You think you grown now? Don't think I won't knock you back down a few pegs, you ungrateful little—"

"Bernice shut up." Leroy's voice cut through the tension, low and threatening. He wasn't much better than his wife, but at least he didn't waste as much energy yelling. He hated her mouth just as much as Cindy did.

Leroy appeared in the doorway, his unshaven face shadowed by the dim light coming through the kitchen window. He wore a stained T-shirt and black work pants, arms folded across his chest like he was bored. "She cleanin', ain't she? You've been on her all morning. Let the girl breathe. And Cindy, get it done. I don't wanna hear no more."

Leroy wasn't a saint either. He liked to think he ruled this house, but he only stepped in when Bernice was getting too worked up. Either way, it didn't make much of a difference. Their cruelty had a rhythm, back and forth, like a broken record.

Bernice glared at Leroy, fists clenched at her sides. "She's a mess, Leroy. She ain't been doin' nothin' right today. And if I gotta do it myself, she gonna pay for it, and you gonna hear it."

Leroy waved her off. "Fine. But I'm telling you, leave her alone. Ain't nobody got time for your yelling this evenin' I just got off work."

Bernice growled but didn't argue further. She turned her attention back to Cindy. "Get the rest of these dishes done, and I don't wanna hear another word outta you."

Cindy nodded stiffly, keeping her mouth shut. She hated the way they treated her. It wasn't just the work—it was the way they looked at her like she was less than a person. Like she was just another tool they used to get their welfare check and keep the house running. She only wished they didn't get paid more for her. Maybe then they wouldn't keep her so long. But Cindy wasn't stupid. Going from home to home like the other kids wasn't much better. Around here, at least, she wasn't locked up in some cold system. So, for now, she kept quiet.

She grabbed a rag and wiped down the table, keeping her movements swift and steady. Inside, though, she was counting the minutes until she could leave. She'd already been cleaning for hours, and it wasn't even sunset yet.

The tension in the room didn't dissipate, but it was broken by the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Cindy looked up, her eyes meeting Chase's lazy gaze. He was standing at the top of the stairs, hoodie pulled over his head, looking like he'd just rolled out of bed.

"What up, Cindy?" Chase asked, smirking down at her from his perch like he was too cool for all this. His voice was low, bored.

Cindy shot him a half-glare, half-sigh. She had no energy to deal with his attitude today. "Boy, don't. Don't come for me right now."

He grinned, unbothered. He slid down the stairs and leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "I didn't come for you. I'm just checkin'. You look stressed. But aye, did you wash my basketball clothes yet?"

Cindy didn't hold back. "Look, foo', I'll get to it when I do, aight?" She gestured to the mess all over the house but didn't bother to look at him while she spoke. "I got a lot to do, as you can see, so dismiss yo'self."

Chase shrugged, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Aight." He paused, a lazy glint in his eyes. "But you know, if you want to leave, I wouldn't stop you. Don't let the man hold you down, bro."

Cindy looked up at him, surprised. "The man? You serious?"

Chase didn't flinch. "Do I look like I'm playin'?"

She took a deep breath. She was used to the idea of running away, but she was almost 18. "I'm almost 18, boy. I ain't stupid."

Chase gave her a lazy smile. "You sure? He laughs, bending. I'm just messin' witchu. But don't let them treat you like you are. You deserve better than this. I'm out, you comin'?"

For once, Cindy wanted to actually go with him. Chase was nothing but a little neighborhood troublemaker, but if it meant getting out of this house...

She stopped her chores, grabbed her hoodie, and headed toward the door. But just as she started to feel a tiny flicker of hope, Bernice's voice sliced through the moment, sharp as ever.

"Where do you think you're goin', girl?" Her tone was laced with accusation, cold and heavy.

Chase threw his hands up. "Ahh, busted. I guess I see you."

Cindy froze mid-step, her foot raised. "Just gonna take the trash out," she lied, her voice even.

"You ain't goin' nowhere. Get back to work," Bernice ordered, her voice ringing with finality. "And don't even think about trying to leave this house 'til this mess is done, or we gone have some problems."

Cindy's heart sank. "Aight." She closed the door quietly. There was no escaping this place, not today anyway. Bernice gave a satisfied humph before leaving the room. Cindy didn't care. She was too tired to go out anyway.

She grabbed the broom and kept sweeping, the weight of Bernice's words pressing down on her. She didn't know how much longer she could take it, but for now, she had no choice. She'd survive another day under their roof.