Nicholas woke to the sound of rain hammering against the corrugated roof. The frigid air of the tiny shack crept through every crevice, biting at his exposed skin. He shifted under the thin blanket, careful not to disturb Ella, who was curled beside him. Her tiny frame shivered, even in sleep.
He pulled the blanket over her shoulders, his gaze drifting to the faint light seeping through the broken window. Another day, he thought. Another fight for survival.
Sarah was already awake, seated at the rickety table with a fraying notebook and a stub of a pencil. Her brow was furrowed, lips moving as she counted under her breath. Nicholas didn't need to ask; he knew she was trying to make their meager earnings stretch for the week.
"Morning," he mumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"Morning," she replied, not looking up. Her voice was clipped, strained.
He hesitated before sitting across from her. "What's the plan today?"
She glanced up then, her eyes sharp but tired. "Same as always. Try to keep everyone fed." She paused, tapping the pencil against the table. "Daniel's still out. He said he'd come back with something... Let's hope it's enough."
Nicholas nodded, his stomach knotting at the mention of their older brother. Daniel's increasingly dangerous escapades were an unspoken source of tension. None of them wanted to confront the possibility of him not coming back one day.
The rain had eased by the time Nicholas stepped outside, the muddy streets glistening under a gray sky. He had one goal today: to earn enough to replace what he'd lost during the scuffle at the bread stall. Failure wasn't an option—not again.
He'd learned to keep to the busier parts of the market, where the chances of being cornered were lower. Vendors shouted their prices, and the smell of roasted chestnuts mingled with the damp air. Nicholas's eyes darted from stall to stall, searching for an opportunity.
"Hey, kid!" a gruff voice called out. Nicholas turned to see a burly man behind a cart piled high with scrap metal. "You looking for work?"
Nicholas hesitated, then nodded.
"Good. Take this—" The man shoved a heavy sack into his arms. "—to the warehouse on Fifth. Ask for Marco. He'll know what to do. And don't even think about running off with it. I'll find you."
The weight of the sack nearly toppled Nicholas, but he steadied himself, adjusting his grip. "Got it," he muttered, setting off toward Fifth Street.
The warehouse loomed ahead, a grim structure of rusted metal and broken windows. Nicholas's pulse quickened as he approached. He hated places like this—too many shadows, too many eyes.
A man in a grease-stained jacket leaned against the entrance, smoking a cigarette. "Marco?" Nicholas asked, his voice steady despite the knot in his stomach.
The man exhaled a plume of smoke, eyeing him up and down. "That's me. You got the stuff?"
Nicholas nodded, handing over the sack. Marco opened it, inspecting the contents with a critical eye. After a moment, he grunted in approval and tossed Nicholas a few coins.
"That's it?" Nicholas blurted before he could stop himself.
Marco's gaze snapped to him, hard and unyielding. "You got a problem, kid?"
Nicholas shook his head, clutching the coins tightly. "No. Thanks."
"Good. Now scram."
By the time Nicholas returned home, the sky was darkening, and the air carried the promise of another storm. Sarah's relief was palpable when he handed her the coins, though it was quickly masked by her usual stoicism.
"Good job," she said, ruffling his hair. It was the closest thing to affection she'd shown in days.
Ella clapped her hands, her excitement a brief ray of sunshine in their dreary existence. "Does this mean we can get bread tomorrow?"
"Yes," Sarah replied, her tone softer now. "It does."
That night, as they huddled together for warmth, Nicholas stared at the cracked ceiling, his mind racing. He was exhausted, his body aching from the day's labor, but sleep wouldn't come. Daniel still hadn't returned, and the silence was heavy with unspoken fears.
"You're doing good, you know," Sarah's voice cut through the darkness.
He turned his head to look at her. "What?"
"You're trying. That's more than most people would do. Just... don't lose that, okay?"
Nicholas swallowed hard, her words hitting him like a punch to the gut. "I won't," he whispered.
And in that moment, he made a silent vow. He would protect them, no matter what it took. He would be strong enough—for all of them.