Jasmine’s heart skipped a beat as she watched the black luxury sedan drive away. She had never seen that car before, and a sense of unease settled over her. Who could it be? And why were they at her house? No one ever visited her house. She shook off the questions, knowing she had more immediate concerns to deal with. Pushing through the gate, a sigh escaped her as she looked towards the pale brown front door. Lights flashed across the windows, the source hidden behind the curtains.

Stepping inside, the familiar scent of stale beer and the sound of the TV greeted her. The lights were off in the living room, but the TV light was still enough to see her father slumped on the couch, surrounded by empty bottles. His once-strong frame had withered over the past two years, leaving him gaunt and hollow-eyed. His hair, now streaked with gray, was unkempt and greasy, and a scruffy beard covered his face. He wore the same stained shirt and worn-out jeans he had been wearing for days, a testament to his neglect of personal hygiene. The lines on his face were deep, etched by grief and the weight of his depression.

Walking behind the leather couch, she made her way to the dining room. “I’m home, Dad.”

“Hey,” he grunted, not taking his eyes off the screen. “You get my drinks?”

She placed the bag containing the beer and whiskey on the table. “Yes, it’s right here. I’ll be up in my room if you need anything.”

“Okay.” His response was short, causing her heart to drop. He used to care more, asking about her day or how school went. Now he was glued to the TV screen, oblivious to the world outside of that screen and his booze. She clenched her fists as she turned away from the booze sitting on the table. The pain in her chest grew, hating the fact that she enabled her father’s habits, but she knew what would happen if she didn’t. Her stomach grumbled in protest as she made her way towards the stairs, causing her to realize she hadn't eaten since breakfast.

Turning on her heel, she took a few steps to their fridge pulling out the leftover chili from two days ago. As it heated up, she thought about her thesis. It took her a while to even come up with it, the psychological impact of trauma, loss, and abilities with treatment through art. She came up with the idea after the break between semesters, when her drawings started to reflect her own issues. Ever since, she’s been trying to think more with her art, and it has been helping her. Just a couple more months she reminded herself. Then she can leave this dreary life behind her.

The microwave beeped, pulling her out of her thoughts. She grabbed the bowl, heading upstairs to her room. Her room was different from the rest of the house, walls painted a light green and blue compared to the dark brown and red throughout the rest of the house. An easel sat in the corner near her window, the dark clouds outside hiding the natural sunlight that lights up the room. Her own paintings lined the walls and were stashed in corners where she could store them. A full-size bed took up the middle of the room, while her desk was in the corner directly across from the door.

Jasmine placed her bowl on the desk and slid her backpack on the floor next to the desk, before heading to her closet. She pulled off her jeans and polo, throwing them into the hamper. Reaching behind her, she popped the clip to her bra, allowing it to fall from her chest before placing it on her dresser shelf to wash. She rubbed the red lines from where the band dug into her skin, it’s been a while since she got sized and she knew she needed to get new bras, but she couldn’t afford to buy any. After slipping into loose pajama pants and an oversized shirt, she sat down at her desk, opening her laptop.

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Scrolling through the class discussion, she let the chili warm her body. She clenched her jaw at a few of the posts. They thought they were being sly with their wording, but she could tell they were referring to her and her father. “The Effects of Alcohol on the Brain”, “Living Under the Influence”, and “Gambling as a Way of Avoidance” were a few of the post titles. They weren’t even related to the chapter the class was going over. Even at college, she couldn’t avoid the looks and comments from people. Everyone knew her father drinks all the time and gambles every Saturday night.

A crack of lightning split the sky, causing Jasmine to jump in her seat, her knee slamming into the underside of her desk. Pain shot through her leg, but she gritted her teeth and shook her head, trying to ignore the throbbing. The storm outside was just like everyone else —dark, oppressive, and relentless. She felt as if the weight of her father’s reputation was a constant shadow, pressing down on her, making her feel small and insignificant.

She glanced at the online posts, frustration bubbling up as she saw the off-topic comments. Her future depended on these assignments, and she couldn’t let anything derail her. With a deep breath, she forced herself to focus, replying to a few relevant posts with precision and clarity. The hours slipped by, each tick of the clock a reminder of how little time she had. Her eyes burned from staring at the screen, but she pushed through the fatigue, her determination a fragile thread holding her together. Every completed task was a step closer to her goal, a chance to escape the suffocating grip of her current life.

Outside, the storm raged on, thunder rumbling like the unspoken fears in her heart. She felt trapped, her father’s shadow looming over her, making her feel worthless. But with each flash of lightning, she caught a glimpse of the hope that kept her going. The storm was powerful, but so was the small spark inside her.

Her phone buzzed next to her laptop, drawing her attention from her assignments. The phone screen lit up as she picked it up, curious about what caused it to buzz. She felt the smile tug on her lips when she saw the sender of a text message; Kassandra, her best friend since childhood.

“Hey, Jazz. It’s been weeks since we hung out! Where have you been? Let’s do something tomorrow!!!!”

“I work tomorrow, I’ve picked up more shifts at work and been swamped with college.”

Not even a minute passed before she got a reply. “What time do you work? I’ll stop by afterwards”

Jasmine frowned, she couldn’t go out. “9am-3pm. But I have an art piece due on Monday, and I need to finish this essay for another class.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you at 2:45. You’re not getting out of this!”

“But… you know how home is. I can’t really do anything.” Jasmine quickly sent back.

“I’ll cover you. And yea, I know how the house is, THAT’S why we need to go do something! Let me treat you to some Sakura Ramen and ice cream. Deal?”

Jasmine grumbled to herself, leaning back in her chair in defeat. She couldn’t resist Sakura Ramen. “Fine… you win. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Kassandra replied with a victory flag, fireworks, and huge smile emojis. With a smile, Jasmine blacked out the phone screen, seeing the time on her laptop. It was almost midnight, so she closed her laptop and walked towards her bed. After placing her phone on the charger, she smacked the light switch down and dropped onto the bed.

As she lay there, the storm outside continued to rage, the wind howling against the window as if it was a wolf in an old children’s story. The black sedan that pulled away from the house earlier crept up in her thoughts, making her feel uneasy. She stared out the window, trying to push away the nagging thoughts. A flash of lightning lit up her room for a second and a silhouette appeared on her window. She sat up before realizing it was only a trick of the light. Laying down again, sleep overtook her shortly after her head hit the pillow. But her dreams were filled with wolves, shadows and whispers, hinting at the storm yet to come.