The dimly lit diner was almost empty as I slouched in my booth, exhausted from another long day of work. The sound of my name being called jolted me upright. "Alex... Alex!" I turned my head to find the source of the voice that was bothering me.
"Alex, this was the last time I caught you sleeping on the job. I would like to see you in my office, please," my supervisor sternly scolded.
I let out a frustrated groan, knowing that this meeting would likely lead to my termination. "Well, that's what happens when you work more hours than your body can handle," I mumbled to myself as I rose to my feet to follow my supervisor, ignoring the sneers and smirks from my colleagues.
The office was just as sterile and soulless as the job itself. After a series of lectures and reprimands, I was handed the last of my salary for this mundane position. I left the building, my hell, and trudged to my beat-up pickup truck. As the engine roared to life, I couldn't help but express my frustration, hitting my right hand towards the car's ceiling.
I stopped by a local takeout joint I frequented after work, though I hated the place. "Man, I hate this place, but they love it, so I must pay the tax for my arrival," I muttered sarcastically, adopting a mock high-class accent. As I counted my meager funds, I realized it wouldn't be enough for a proper meal. "Forget it, I'll just eat cereal for dinner again. Rent is going to be tough this month," I sighed, hoping for a better job in the future so I could provide for my family.
Arriving home, I noticed the lights were off in the small house I shared with my younger sister Katlyn and brother Leon. "That's odd, there's no way those devils would be asleep at 7 PM," I thought, hurriedly unlocking the front door. But as soon as I opened it, a torrent of ice-cold water soaked me, and before I could react, my legs buckled, and I collapsed to the floor.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
"Here goes thy tax, dear land blubber! Better show thy booty before I start throwing more ice in your face," Leon proclaimed with a playful grin, wielding an ice-filled bucket like a pirate brandishing a treasure chest.
"We've been over this, Leon. Pirates don't talk like that," I said, feigning annoyance while secretly cherishing these moments with my siblings.
"You let me do the talking because I am a pirate, and what I say goes!" Leon replied, mimicking a swashbuckling captain.
As the playful banter subsided, my sister Katlyn, the family's voice of reason, intervened. "Please, can you both be quiet? I need to finish this essay, and the noise is driving me insane."
Apologizing, we all settled down. I handed out the takeout meals I managed to afford, though I knew it would be a tight month financially. "You both better not forget to lock the door after I leave for the night," I reminded them, aware that they needed to be cautious in this neighborhood.
After tucking them into bed, I retreated to my room, where a faint light still shone. The retro décor, reminiscent of our late father's taste, created a comforting ambiance, despite the painful memories attached.
As I held my mother's old phyllo paint scheme ballistic mask, a symbol of my rebellious spirit, I contemplated how far we had come as a family. Though we had our struggles, my determination to provide a better life for my siblings drove me forward.
Soon, the alarm on my phone blared, signaling another night shift at work. I grabbed my essentials and locked the front door, gazing back at my siblings' bedroom with a mix of love and determination. "I won't let them down," I whispered to myself.
The frosty night air cut through me as I walked towards work, feeling the weight of my responsibilities. The sirens blaring in the distance mirrored the chaos within me, but I knew I had to keep moving forward.