"Aris—Aris! Are you even listening to me, girl?"
The voice broke through her thoughts like the sudden shatter of glass against a concrete floor. Aris blinked twice, dragging her focus back to the coworker standing in front of her, a middle-aged woman whose impatience painted a deep frown on her face.
"Yeah, totally," Aris mumbled, offering a faint, unconvincing smile. She waved her hand dismissively, pretending to have been paying attention. But her coworker's sigh and muttered remarks about "youth these days" went unchallenged. Aris couldn't muster the energy to care what she meant.
The truth was, Aris felt like she wasn't really here anymore—not at work, not at home, not anywhere. It was 2022, and she was eighteen, only one year out of school. But her life already felt stagnant. She spent eight hours a day in this cramped electrical store, her first job, surrounded by stacks of wires, bulbs, and appliances she didn't care about. The air always smelled faintly of metal and dust, and the fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, adding to her constant headache.
Life had become a loop. Alarm. Drag her half-dead body out of bed. Work. Go home. Sleep. Repeat. There was no passion, no spark, no sign that things were going to change. The only thing she felt lately was the faint hum of exhaustion, like a distant engine that never quite turned off.
This job, a patchwork solution to a year of rejection letters and ignored applications, had been sold to her as a blessing. Yet now it felt like a curse.
"You should be grateful," Daren had told her the day he arranged the job. His words lingered in her mind, resurfacing every time she thought about quitting.
"Nobody else wanted you."
That sentence had cut deeper than she ever admitted, embedding itself like a splinter she could never remove.
Back when she met Daren, he seemed like a savior—a confident, older man swooping in during the lowest point of her life. At first, he made her feel wanted, even cherished. But that image of him was long gone, replaced by someone who treated her as a convenience. He discouraged her from going out, made sharp comments about her friends, and managed to twist every disagreement into evidence of her unworthiness.
Once, she'd tried to leave.
"Go ahead," he'd laughed, his tone dripping with condescension. "Let's see who else would want you."
And just like that, her resolve crumbled.
Now, she merely existed, navigating her days in a state of muted detachment. As her coworker walked away, Aris sighed and leaned against the counter. Her hands moved on autopilot, sorting receipts and straightening displays, while her mind wandered back to the version of herself she used to know.
At 16, she'd dreamed of being an artist, of creating vivid worlds on canvas. Back then, life had been bursting with color and promise.
Now, it was gray.
She turned her gaze toward the window. The street outside buzzed with life—people hurrying past, their faces blank and indifferent. The sun hung bright and heavy in the sky, its warmth a distant memory.
A customer approached, dragging Aris back to the present. She forced a polite smile as she rang up their items, her movements mechanical and practiced.
"Busy day, huh?" the man asked, attempting small talk.
She nodded, offering no response. He seemed to take the hint and left without further comment.
By the time her shift ended, Aris felt drained, like a sponge wrung dry. Her feet ached, her shoulders were stiff, and her mind buzzed faintly with fatigue. Stepping outside, she welcomed the cool evening air as a balm against the oppressive weight of the day. The streets had calmed, painted in hues of orange and pink as the sun dipped below the horizon.
Her phone buzzed, breaking the momentary peace. Pulling it from her pocket, she saw Daren's name flashing on the screen.
Where are you?
The simple message felt like a weight pressing down on her chest, heavy with unspoken accusations. She shoved the phone back into her pocket without replying, knowing full well what awaited her at home.
Her walk home felt unusually long, her thoughts churning with restless discontent. By the time she reached her small, dimly lit apartment, the air inside felt stagnant, matching her mood. She dropped her bag unceremoniously on the floor and collapsed onto the couch, her limbs too heavy to consider making dinner.
For a while, she stared at the ceiling, the white expanse above her a blank canvas for her spiraling thoughts. Was this really it? A dead-end job, a controlling boyfriend, and the aching realization that her life's brightest days might already be behind her?
Her phone buzzed again, jolting her.
Don't ignore me, Aris.
The words sent a chill through her. She could already hear the accusations in his voice, the sharp edges of his temper waiting to cut her. Why didn't you text back? Who were you with? She had heard it all before.
Closing her eyes, she drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. The tension in her body built slowly, like a tide rising beneath her skin.
Her thoughts drifted to the friendships she'd let slip away, sacrificed to keep the peace in her relationship. She thought about her dreams—the vivid, colorful worlds she used to create in her sketchbooks. Now, those dreams felt buried, suffocated under the weight of her insecurities and Daren's stifling presence.
A tear slipped down her cheek, hot and unbidden. She wiped it away, angry at herself for the crack in her armor. She was supposed to be stronger than this, wasn't she?
Deep down, a voice whispered the truth she tried to ignore: she couldn't keep living like this. But the thought of leaving, of starting over, felt insurmountable.
What if Daren was right? What if this truly was the best she could do?
The question settled over her like a shadow, its presence suffocating and unanswerable.