A month later, Jessica awoke in bed with the same old boyfriend the Stiletto had practically saved her from. That's right. She had played the role of the dog herself and returned to her vomit. Speaking of dogs, the six-foot-two, three-hundred-pound man was fast asleep with his boisterous snores rattling the entire cul-de-sac. Admittedly, at times it looked like he was pulling the window blinders closer and closer to himself. It reached the point where Jessica had to suddenly sit upright in the bed for a moment and look at him with vitriol. How could he sleep under all this racket he was making? She was tempted to pinch his nose shut even just for a second. It would have brought much needed silence and peace, she thought. But even then, she knew that wasn't the best idea. No, it definitely wasn't. Yet she couldn't ignore it anymore. By now the sun was already out with its sun rays shining through the window blinds.

Finally getting up, she walked into the bathroom where she gently shut the door; careful not to wake him. She was in a thin spaghetti strap top completed with a pair of pink curvy panties. She turned on the tap and made it run before looking up in the mirror at herself. There she was quickly greeted by sadness, a fizzy redhead, and a partially black eye. It would seem Tony, the man in her bed, had too much to drink last night. Right away she drew in an old, tired breath. Thereafter, she tied her unruly hair into a ponytail, grabbed her toothbrush and toothpaste, and began brushing her teeth like there was nothing under her left eye.

Thirty minutes later, she was in the kitchen sweating and looking after scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages, and blueberry pancakes. Tony sat around a wooden table watching the morning news in the living room area, which really was an extension of the kitchen. His pet Pitbull, who was called Butch based on his name tag on his collar, sat loyally at his master's feet.

"Tony, your eggs are almost ready," she said, stirring the eggs in one frying pan and checking the bacon in another pan.

"Whatever," he scrunched up his face, turning up the volume on the television so as to drown her out. On the news, he saw people on the street demonstrating and holding signs in front of a fenced-off property in a desert. "All this Area 51 bullshit is running amok in this country," he started to complain with an unlit cigarette between his fingers. "I say we take that blasted place by storm and see what the bloody hell they're hiding beneath that property," he afterward lit the cigarette in his mouth.

"Breakfast is ready," she laid out four plates in front of him on the table with eggs, strips of bacon, sausages, and three stacks of pancakes with maple syrup on top. She later brought him a mug of black coffee and orange juice in a glass cup. "Tony, no smoking in the house," she told him, setting down her and her sister's breakfast on a dining table with four chairs.

"Whenever you and that little bitch of a sister of yours start pulling the heavy load around here, then you can talk to me." He continued smoking his cigarette in the living room area on his couch.

"How much time do I have to tell you to not speak about my sister like that?"

"This is my house, woman, and if you don't like the way I talk about your sister, the two of you can hit the road—"

"Laurel, breakfast is ready!" Jessica suddenly went to the base of the staircase and called out loudly. "Get your ass up! You're going to be late for school...again! Laurel!" But there was no answer. Upstairs remained quiet and for a second Jessica found that unusual. Yet before she could get a chance to think anything more, she heard:

"Aagh! I can't eat this shit," Tony said, slamming down his hands on the table, jerking up the ceramic plates. Jessica quickly looked around at him as he got up from around the table and extinguished his cigarette in his plate of perfectly scrambled eggs. He subsequently walked over to the door but before he opened it, he grabbed his work vest and protective helmet off two coat hooks that were behind the door. "Next time don't overcook the eggs. I'll get a proper breakfast somewhere on the road," he walked out on her with his dog and slammed the door so hard that the decrepit paint fell off the lintel.

Jessica, with her hands frozen on her hips and pancake mix all over her apron, just closed her eyes for a long moment and breathed outwards. Only the big guy above truly knew how she felt right now. She afterward slowly trod her way up the squeaky staircase with a burning frown, picking up the devil's dirty work pants and vests off the steps and railing as she went further up. There were picture frames on the blue, flowery wallpaper-covered walls. Apparently, they were childhood pictures of Jessica and Laurel with their parents. Their mother was a blond woman with speckles and their father was a redhead. Jessica and her sister were both redheads, but Laurel had more speckles on her face than Jessica. Still, it is an interesting place to have these pictures. But wait, why do some of the walls in the pictures look identical to the current walls in the house? Didn't Tony say that this was his house? But maybe it's just coincidence.

Anyway, after that, Jessica came to a stop with Tony's laundry in her hand at a door with a hazard sign on it that read, 'Danger - Keep out!' Rolling her eyes at the sign, she began to pound on the door.

"Laurel, get your lazy ass up. It's time for school. Laurel?!"

Yet again there was no answer from her sister. With invisible steam rising from her head, Jessica grabbed the doorknob and opened her door into her room. "For the last time, I said it's time to get ready for—" Jessica suddenly stopped talking, realizing that Laurel was not in her room. She had been talking to an empty room this whole time. Her bed was still neatly spread, but her makeup kit was out on her dresser and a few of her fancy dresses were on the carpet-covered floor near her closet. They had fallen off their hangers, she estimated. Jessica, on turning around to exit the room, saw multiple pictures of her sister tacked to the back of her door. Unlike the family pictures that were along the staircase, Laurel was all grown up and had shaved one side of her head and dyed her hair purple. She also wore a hoop nose ring and lip ring. Jessica sighed when she looked at them.

Going back downstairs and dropping off Tony's clothes in the laundry room, she pulled out her smartphone and rang her sister's phone. The phone rang and rang, but her sister did not answer. So, she tried again. "Laurel, pick up the phone," Jessica said while walking to the kitchen where she began to clear Tony's dishes. With the phone still at her ear, her sister's voicemail came on:

"Sorry, I'm unavailable right now. Don't bother leaving a message because I probably won't get back to you...toddles."

"Laurel, where the heck are you? Call me back," Jessica said anyway, ending the voicemail message and putting down the phone on the table with a slight uncertainty in her eyes as she frowned.

Two hours near midday, Jessica had left home and was in a tight lobby area of sorts, biting her nails and shaking her left leg. Also waiting with her were a few other people filling up the lobby chairs; some even had to stand. She wore heavy makeup to conceal her bruised left eye, which seemed to have worked perfectly. Thank God for makeup!

There was a holographic television screen in the lobby area and a news broadcast was currently on:

"...Back to local news," a male reporter started. "It has come to our attention here at Kapitol News that the garbage crisis continues in sections of Beacon City. Our own Johanna Hall is in one of these troubled communities on the west side...one notoriously called the Gutters. Johanna?"

"Thanks, Dan," the news switched to a mixed Asian woman on the scene. "Today marks day one hundred and fifty-five since the start of what is now being dubbed as a 'garbage catastrophe' in the Gutters amid Congress's decision to cut a substantial amount of bailout money needed to save a number of local waste management companies. This has resulted in union-wide layoffs that have inversely affected the community and its residents. Right behind me, you can see just how bad it really is. There are hills of black garbage bags along the sidewalk and in the road itself...as far as the eyes can see in both directions from where I'm currently standing...some reaching as high as six feet. But Dan, what you're seeing is not the worst part. The worst part is the unbearable stench coming from these bags of garbage, which are now, according to the local business owners, to be blamed for attracting hordes of 'mutant rats' from the sewer drains. Rats, the size of fully grown cats I'm being told. Just now I've seen one with my own eyes. It's unbelievable! Many restaurant owners along this stretch are complaining that it is turning away many of their customers. Some fear that they'll soon be forced to close shop in the community altogether. Alderman Pyke, who is the local democrat representative, is now coming under heavy fire for dragging his feet on the issue affecting his own constituency. Many are already calling for his immediate resignation. But that may not solve their immediate problem, others argue. The alderman is set to appear at a town hall meeting at the community center in a couple of days..."

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Jessica then looking down at her phone and pushing the news broadcast to the back of her head, realized that her sister had not returned her call or even texted her back yet. So, she called her again. But it rang until the voicemail came on. Thus, she left another message, saying with a stern but concerned tone, "Laurel, I'm not playing. Please call me back..."

"Miss Isaacs?" A woman suddenly called her surname out with a clipboard in her hand.

"Yes, that's me," she quickly ended the voicemail and placed her phone in her handbag, standing up with attentiveness.

"This way," the woman led the way, already walking ahead. So, Jessica followed.

They soon after reached a noisy area with many irate clients in booths speaking loudly to their social service agent; a woman with her crying newborn across her shoulder being the loudest.

"Have a seat," the woman said to Jessica when they arrived at an empty booth. "Sorry about the heat. Our ventilation is currently down."

"That's okay," Jessica followed her in sitting down, watching the woman as she turned a ridiculously small, battery-powered fan that was on her desk on herself.

The woman with a disgruntled look on her face then began flipping through the papers clipped onto the clipboard boringly.

"So, any good news for me?" Jessica smiled nervously, asking.

"Sorry, no. It doesn't seem we have anything available for you at this moment," the woman ceased going through the clipboard.

"I'm sorry, what?" Jessica could not believe her ears; her smile slowly fading away.

"We ain't got anything for you. Come back in two weeks."

"You know... that's the exact thing I've heard the last two occasions I've been here... that there is nothing. What is going on here...y'all just take people's money without providing your services...is that it?!" Jessica asked, practically breathing fire.

"Miss Isaacs, I'm just gonna be blunt with you," the woman took off her eyeglasses and tossed them on her desk, subsequently using a rag to wipe away her sweaty forehead.

"As if you weren't just now," Jessica folded her arms and tensed her eyebrows.

"Look, you have a reputable work history and all, but with your experience mostly as a waitress, we are unable to locate a job for you... For you and everyone else. You've seen the news. Many of the fast-food chains are either laying off their current employees or shutting down completely. Now I'm hearing that Congress will move on to cut funding across the board. We're talking social services, education...healthcare. The whole state is on the verge of an economic collapse and this community will be one of the hardest-hit."

"This is unbelievable," Jessica shook her head with teary eyes. "I didn't come here for your regurgitated version of the news. I came here for a job. I took the last of my savings to pay for your services. Next week will be another month. I don't have any money to renew our contract. Please. I'm not asking for any government handouts. I just want a job...anything."

"I'm sorry, but I got nothin'. Unemployment is at record heights. Just look in the lobby if you don't believe me. There are many more people not working than ever before and by next week those numbers are expected to double. Bad enough, the whole A.I. movement is gaining more and more support at City Hall. We just need to face it. Things are hard for everyone. Heck, if this continues, I'll be out of a job soon."

"Thanks for nothing," Jessica suddenly got up out of the chair, wiping her eyes and getting ready to leave.

"Wait," the woman, however, stopped her. "Look, I know what I'm saying to you may be harsh. But it's the truth. The city doesn't give a flying shit about people like us. If you can, it'd be best if you just left the Gutters."

"And go where?!"

"Texas… Florida. I've heard it's good down there."

"I have a teenage sister to put through high school. I have no job...no money. I can't just uproot my whole life and move." Jessica argued, to which the social service woman kept her peace. So, Jessica walked away.

Now on the sidewalk, she had to find space to walk past the hills of garbage bags. But they weren't her only obstacle as also dotted randomly along the sidewalk were tents of homeless people.

"Have any spare change?" One such homeless person startled Jessica by touching her on her arm. It was an elderly woman pushing a weary grocery cart with all her earthly belongings in it. She, herself, was clothed in multiple layers of clothes each made from more than one fabric woven into one.

"No," Jessica at first answered scornfully, pulling herself away. But she later realized it was just a meek, old woman. Her scornful tensed expression then fell in compassion. So, she went into her handbag and pulled out an egg sandwich she had made at home this morning to carry with her. "I'm sorry, this is all I have."

"Then that makes it extra special. Thank you, sweetheart. May God bless your generous soul," the old woman received it with unearthly gratitude.

Then, with a half-smile, Jessica walked away while the old woman continued to look upon her with gratitude.

Not making a big deal out of it, Jessica returned her mind to her current problem. Her sister. She rang Laurel's phone again. No answer. She rang it again. No answer. She tried again and again and again. No answer for all the ten times she called. So, she went through her contacts and called a different number.

The person then answered, "Hello?"

"Hi, Pauline. It's me, Jessica."

"Jessica..."

"Yeah, I was wondering if Laurel was over there with Nelly. I know the two of them went out for a party last night," Jessica said with assured confidence, believing that Laurel had spent the night over at her best friend's house.

"No, she did not spend the night here..." The woman started, already causing Jessica's heart to skip a couple of beats. "...neither did Nelly," she went on. "I was actually about to call you to see if Nelly was with you."

"Wait, Nelly did not come home either?"

"No. I tried calling her cell phone, but no answer. Jess, where are our girls?"

"Pauline, I'mma call you back," Jessica lied, placing her hand on her forehead.

"Okay, but call me immediately when you find out something."

"Sure thing," Jessica ended the call, placing both her hands on her forehead and brooding.

Some minutes later, walking up a crack-infested driveway, she arrived at a mechanic's shop. Inside she found a pair of black boots sticking out from underneath a red sports car.

"Donovan?" Jessica was not sure.

"It's just Danny. Nobody calls me Donovan except for my parents," the young man pushed himself out from underneath the car to see Jessica. "Do I know you?" he asked, getting up and wiping his greasy hands in a cloth he pulled from his back pocket. At the same time, he was also scanning Jessica from head to toe.

"Is Laurel with you?" She got straight to the point.

"Laurel..."

"Quit the bullshit. I know you two have been texting. I saw your messages."

"She showed you, our texts?"

"Not really, but you should be ashamed. You're like what, thirty..."

"Twenty-one actually..."

"Laurel is fifteen, you perv. I should call the cops on you right now."

"Please don't do that. My parents would kill me."

"Well, you should have thought about that before you started dating an underage girl."

"No, we weren't really dating plus she told me she was twenty-one."

"And you believed her?"

"Yes. I mean she's quite mature for a girl her age."

"Urgh," Jessica gripped her hands tight, looking up into the ceiling at the rotating fan.

"I swear I did not know that she was fifteen."

"Just tell me where she is, so I can go and get her?"

"Wait, you thought she was... Laurel is not with me."

"What do you mean? Didn't you go with her to the party?"

"Yeah, but she ditched me for some other dude at the party."

"Wait...so she is not with you?" Jessica's heart stopped.

"No. I left the party early. I didn't even go inside the club."

Right when he said this, she immediately found herself turning around and walking away.

"So, we're cool then? You're not going to call the cops...right?!" The young man inquired. But she ignored him as she walked away.

Upon reaching back onto the garbage-littered street, her phone started to vibrate. She quickly dug into her handbag for it, almost missing the call when she finally found it. "Laurel!?" She answered the strange number with urgency.

"No. I'm her form teacher from Beacon City High."

"Mrs. Perkins..."

"I'm just calling to let you know that your sister did not show up for class this morning. I'm obligated to remind you that, as her sole guardian, it is your responsibility to see to it that she attends schools regularly, on time, I might also add."

"About that—"

"As bad as things are, Laurel is one of our top students who I think has great potential to do great things along the way. But you need to put your foot down as it regards her attendance and punctuality, which are both crucial for her to attract the right scholarship if she's to go to college."

"This won't happen again, Mrs. Perkins," Jessica promised, biting her lower lip as tears filled her eyes.

"It better not for Laurel's sake. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Miss Isaacs," the teacher hung up on her.

Jessica was now left standing in front of the business establishment as the storm clouds gathered over her head. A single raindrop then fell and landed right on her partially speckled cheek, running down the rest of her face like a teardrop. After that, it was like the windows of Heaven spitefully opened and began soaking Jessica from head to toe. Yet all she could do was to continue to walk in the rain, very slowly as adversaries and trouble encompassed her troubled soul.

Up Next: Chapter 2: Can I Help You