Chapter 1
elaine
I didn’t have enough.
It was my own fault. When the community volunteering event at the library had been threatening to fall through if we didn’t have the money to keep the space open another night, all I could think of was the kids who came in and had nowhere else to go.
Deanne would be coming back with the big fantasy novel she was reading—so far above her age grade, and all the other librarians told her to pick something more age-appropriate.
But she was nine years old and didn’t feel safe at home, and the land of flying dragons and kingdom inheritances was her safe place to get away.
She’d sit down on the big couch and ask me to explain a concept or a word, and I’d tell her all about it, and her eyes would shine as she dove back into the book.
I pictured all the other kids, and I pictured Deanne, shoving the book into her backpack and coming out to the library, and I pictured the look on her face when she saw it was closed.
So I’d put my hand up. I’d said I could cover it out of pocket. After all, I’d just gotten my paycheck.
I’d be okay. The kids would be okay.
But my hands shook when I handed the bills over to Mom, who snatched them out of my hand.
“It’s about time,” she said. “I was wondering if you were skipping this time.”
“I’m sorry I’m here so late,” I said quietly. “I had a shift at the bar tonight too…”
She sniffed dismissively as she riffed through the bills, and she stopped at the last one. “Where’s the rest of it?”
I winced. “That’s all I have this time.”
Her eyes flashed with anger, and I flinched as she threw the bills down on the table. “Did you get fired?”
“No! I just… the budget is tight at the library right now, and the bar hasn’t had as many hours…”
Mom pointed to the next room. “I’m here looking after your siblings, and you can’t even contribute your fair share? After I raised you?”
I won’t cry. Not where she can see. Not when I know what she’ll say. I looked down. “I’m sorry.”
“I’ll bet you kept it for yourself. What have you been doing lately? Skipping work and going to parties?” She slammed her hand down on the kitchen table, and I jumped. “You don’t care about this family at all, Elaine!”
“I do! It’s just—”
“I don’t want to hear your excuses!”
I heard a whimper from the floor, and I craned my neck to where Bernard, the skittish family dachshund, was cowering in the corner of the kitchen.
He picked his head up when he saw me, though—I’d always been the only one to take him out and spend time with him, Matthew too busy with coursework, and Caitlyn couldn’t walk far enough—and his little tail started wagging as he came nervously over to me.
“I’m really sorry,” I said, kneeling to hold a hand out for Bernard. “I’ll see if there are any night shifts to pick up for the bar so I can cover the remainder.”
Bernard walked right past my hand and into my arms, cuddling into my chest, and I hugged him against the cold air—a draft coming from the pantry. Holes in the foundation that led to the outside. Another thing that would need fixing. Would need money.
Mom sneered at me. “Don’t use the dog as a shield,” she said. “At least make yourself useful and clean up! This house is a mess now that you’ve stopped doing anything to help!”
I shouldn’t have moved out… I’d thought I’d get some independence and start to build my own life, but all it meant was that I was spending valuable money on rent that could have gone to the family.
Mom spent a lot of money on drinks out and lottery tickets, and it was hard to make up the difference, even between working at the library and heading straight from there to my bartending job almost every day.
Caitlyn had a lot of hospital bills. Matthew needed help with tuition. Bernard had vet bills.
“I will,” I said. “I’m going to take Bernard for a walk and then I’ll take care of the kitchen, okay? I am really sorry about the money this week.”
Mom didn’t say anything. I almost wished she did. It was the silent disapproval that broke me the most.
Bernard got some of his pep back as I took him out for a walk around the neighborhood, his little tail wagging fast. It was later than I would usually take him out, the sun already down, but I just wouldn’t sleep too much tonight… as long as the family was okay, that was what mattered.
When I got back inside, Caitlyn met me in the living room, sitting with her laptop balanced on her knees, and she lit up, eyes shining.
“You made it!” she said, and she set her laptop aside and stood up, a little wobbly—she couldn’t walk more than a room or two without support, but she stumbled over to me and hugged me, her form so small and frail in my arms.
“Hey, Cait,” I said, ruffling her hair. “I wasn’t going to just abandon you! Listen, I…” I lowered my voice. “I know I promised I’d get you that game…”
She shook her head. “It’s fine,” she said quietly. “I heard Mom yelling. You don’t need to worry about me! I’m happy.”
I felt my eyes prickling as I hugged her.
She’d grown up so much… it was hard to believe my little baby sister was an adult now, even if only barely.
She’d only just turned eighteen a few months ago, and I’d bought her a tablet for her birthday, because of how much I knew she loved drawing on her computer—without much mobility all her life, she’d grown up attached to the computer, her outlet to the outside world.
I just wanted to give her the world. She deserved better than learning to lower her expectations just because I couldn’t give her what she wanted.
“Caitlyn!” Mom’s voice broke the moment, and I steadied Caitlyn’s arm as she looked back at where Mom leaned in through the doorway, clearly a little tipsy on a glass of red wine. “Leave your sister alone. She’s got work to do.”
“Mom,” Caitlyn started, furrowing her brow, and I squeezed her arm.
“It’s okay,” I whispered. I nodded at Mom. “I’m going.”
I guided Caitlyn back to her chair, and I slipped into the kitchen to clean up the mess.
Mom was never good at staying on top of the dishes.
I scrubbed them all down, cleaned up the junk all around the kitchen and took out the trash, wiped down the counters, and right when I was finishing sweeping the floor, I got a lightheaded flush.
I clutched the broom for support before I staggered against the wall, holding onto it and breathing hard while my senses came back to normal.
Not again. This had been getting worse and worse.
I was just so tired, and I felt burned across every part of my body…
there wasn’t much left of me to give. But I had to.
I’d make it through this week, do a little overtime, and then we’d be okay.
I could make up the missing money to Mom, I could get Caitlyn her game, and maybe I could even take a day off next weekend.
The rush passed, and I finished cleaning the floors before I headed out.
Caitlyn caught me at the doors, leaning on the side table for support—Mom had never really set up the house for her wheelchair, so she’d gotten good at figuring out which touching-down points she could land at while she maneuvered around the house.
“Are you okay?” she said, and I forced a smile.
“I’m good. Look after yourself first, okay?” I mussed her hair again. “See you next time.”
“Sorry about Mom…”
I shook my head. “She’s just doing her best to look after you two. It’s tough to be a single parent.”
She looked skeptical, but she still hugged me. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
I realized once I was out the door waiting for the bus that the hug had been a tactical maneuver—when I took my wallet from my pocket, a small envelope came with it, and I opened it, my heart breaking as I pulled the note out. Caitlyn’s neat handwriting, and a twenty-dollar note.
I got paid a little bit for an art commission I could only do thanks to that tablet, so I owe you this!
P.S. please don’t give it to Mom. I’ll find out if you do.
I clutched the bill and the note in my hand together, crumpling them both, as tears stung in my eyes. The bus was pulling up, and I couldn’t cry.
Caitlyn. My little kid sister—only barely not a kid anymore—had to give me money. I was supposed to be looking after her.
The poor girl didn’t need to be growing up so fast. I fought the tears the whole bus ride back, and I worked through in my head what to do with it.
If I spent it on my groceries, I could pay back that extra money to Mom sooner…
I wouldn’t technically be giving the money to Mom.
I still didn’t know how I’d look Caitlyn in the eye after any of this.
Except that while I was walking from the bus stop back to my place, I felt something pulling in my chest when I saw through the window of the secondhand shop, a display with the most beautiful dress up on a mannequin, and like it was fated, a tag on it for only twenty dollars.
It was such a gorgeous thing, and my chest ached wondering when the last time I bought clothes was.
I only ever bought what would be practical for work.
I didn’t need a beautiful, flowy white gown like that one.
But maybe Caitlyn would be happy to see me in it, knowing it had been her gift to me. Maybe it was the least I could do for her. Maybe I could just work an extra shift somewhere…
My heart pounded as I reached for the door, but just when my fingers touched the wood grain of the handle, it settled in me what I was doing. I couldn’t buy a dress. That money needed to go towards food, housing, medicine.
I walked away. Back around the corner and up the hill to my apartment block, my body sagging from tiredness as I got to the front doors of the complex, at least until I heard a small, pitiful sound from the side of the complex.
A cat. A kitten. It sounded hurt.
I didn’t have the time or the energy for this…
not one more thing on top of everything else.
But I couldn’t help myself, hearing that sound.
Just to make sure nothing was wrong, I turned away from the door, and I walked around the corner, peering through the fence.
The dumpster. Pitch-black this time of night, shielded from view.
And there, in the corner, a small, white kitten, its fur all matted and dirty, tangled in a piece of plastic packaging and string from a trash bag somebody had thrown on the ground instead of into the dumpster. It mewled pitifully, struggling to break free, and my heart broke.
“Hey. Easy.” I whispered as I walked closer, kneeling in front of the kitten, and I put my arm out for it to show I was nonthreatening. It sniffed me, mewling more loudly, clearly scared and panicked, and I whispered more soft things as I worked carefully to free it.
And just when I got the packaging away and freed the kitten’s back half, I heard footsteps behind me. I glanced back over my shoulder, and panic dropped in my gut when I saw them.
Three masked men, fanned out to block every exit.
“Relax,” the one in the middle said. “We’re just here to… take a look at something in the area. Just close your eyes and pretend you never saw us.”
He moved his hand slowly to his hip as he spoke, and in the low light of a streetlamp on the other side of the fence, I saw the gunmetal gleam of cold steel.