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“Make sure you get my cigarettes on your way home.”

I sigh, hanging my head as I walk out the front door, squeaking out a small response, “I will.”

Hearing loud mumbling as he thought of some form of insult, I slammed the door. My eyes were drawn to the truck sitting on the front lawn. He bought it a couple years ago, and proceeded to scratch, and dent it on everything around him. It would be so nice to have a car, but I turn to the street, steeling myself for another shift at the factory, where we produce circuits and components for small electronics.

Looking down at myself, I sigh at my frumpy outfit. Terrible orange pants and a rough blue jacket. It’s an outfit so ugly I could almost cry. I simply take one step at a time, passing the eight kilometers to work deep in thought. Mostly deep depression related to the circumstances of my life.

Stepping into the factory I put my coat on a hanger, taking my name-badge, and I punch the clock. When I open the first door to the main floor, my supervisor greets me, his strong, compassionate, hand grips my shoulder. “Hey, Alice, ready to go.”

I look up at him, “Yeah Jeff,” I shrug and exhale sharply, “I’m ready to beat the day.”

His strong grip squeezes my shoulder, “Good to hear sport, you always do a great job.”

I shake him off to walk forward, “All I do is a quality check of a couple traces boss. How hard could it possibly be?”

He shakes his head, opening the second door for me, “Well I appreciate that you stay awake, unlike the people around here I actually have to supervise.”

I smile again, “Thanks, Jeff. Appreciate it.”

He waves goodbye as he turns to his station, I jog down the line to my station where I sit, for 8 hours a day, checking the same 12 things on a monitor. It’s easy… but monotonous. Work is monotonous, and I slip into fantasy as my eyes scan the monitor lines, and my hands hit the deny button for each failed circuit.

I daydream of a life with someone who loves me. A place where I can feel loved, or dare I say, happy? This dream is one which I strive to have each and every day, while I am safe at the factory. Fortunately, today was easy, the hours flew by, and the buzzer which indicated shift change rang out as the line paused for a brief moment, allowing my replacement to jump in behind me. Some days are not so smooth, sometimes, when my fears and doubts overwhelm me… I have to grit my teeth and focus.

After walking from my seat, I sigh as I walk into the office. I open a folder on the counter, pulling out my paycheck and slipping it into my pocket when I hear the voice of my supervisor.

I spin about, facing Jeff. “Great job as always kiddo.”

“You’re welcome boss.”

He leans on the counter, “Is everything okay for you?”

I bite my tongue, not wanting to cause a scene, my eyes darting to the ground, “Yeah, everything is fine, just got to pay the bills.”

“Alright kiddo, I hope so… you do a wonderful job, but I can see you from my spot, and you look a little upset.”

I do my best to avoid breaking down into tears. “It’s nothing I swear.” I turn to the door, starting to open it.

He sighs, “Well Alice, I would like to help you, but I can’t help if you don’t let me.”

I hang my head, passing through the door. “I know Jeff, thanks for caring, there’s nothing to be done.” I allow the door to slam behind me as I step out into the dark. Snow is falling heavily, and covering the ground, I walk carefully, doing my best to not fall and slide down the road.

The convenience store near my father’s home welcomed me with its bright yellow lights. I step into the store and approach the counter. “Hey Fred, I need the weekly.”

The smiling clerk rounds the corner, his red shirt stained with coffee and soda, and his toothy grin missing a few crucial teeth. “Paycheck and 2 cartons?”

“Yeah.”

Fred does his best to cheer me up, “So how was work?”

“The same as usual, I do work, and get paid.”

Fred came down a little, resting on his bulbous arms, “I know you don’t smoke these, you smell like flowers, and you have all your teeth.”

“Guilty, and no I don’t want to talk about it.” I take the bags and the envelope with the rest of the money in it.

Fred spins around, “Wait a sec.” I pause as a cap pops off a bottle, and my overweight friend rounds the counter. “Here, this might help a little.” He extends a bottle of Michelob, my favorite beer.

I turn to Fred, someone who does not know the depth of my troubles, offering me something to help. While I know the beer is not a solution, it is a welcome distraction from the reality I am about to face.

A single tear flows from my eye, as I take the beer. He gives another toothy grin, handing me a brown bag to put the bottle in, “On the house, don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks, Fred, this means a lot.” I take a swig, glad to have the alcohol in my mouth, opening the door and leaving Fred alone in his store once again.

The worst part of going home is always opening the door. I open it as quietly as possible. “Took you long enough bitch.”

I enter the living room, the only source of light is the TV in the corner, “Hi Dad.”

His expression could only be described as annoyed he grits his ugly teeth as he speaks, “It’s bad enough that I ran out of cigarettes earlier today, but I had to wait a whole extra hour after your fuckin shift?”

“I know, it’s snowing.” I hand him the bag of cigarettes and try to pass him to go down to my basement room.

His hand extends out, blocking my path. “You’re shitting me? You think making me wait is okay?”

I turn, as respectfully as I could, “It was snowing Dad, I couldn’t go any faster, and you make me walk…” I pause and close my eyes as he grabs at the PVC pipe he always keeps near his chair. He slams it into my neck, and I collapse to the ground, as he hits my side several times.

“I MAKE YOU? What makes YOU think YOU DESERVE a ride?” He grabs at me as I try to hide in plain sight, pulling my jacket and ripping it off of me. Digging through my pockets he turns to me, “Where is my money?”

“Right pocket, Dad” I squeak, my syllables intermixed with tears.

He pulls out my hard-earned cash, stuffing it in his jean pocket, tossing my jacket down to me.

“Good, now go to bed.”

I stifle my tears. My weakened body standing and stepping into the hallway that goes to my basement. Upon reaching the basement I collapse onto my bed, pulling my shirt off to investigate my side. It was bruised, the skin darkening a little. I pulled off my tear stained shirt, entering the bathroom to get a cool cloth to put on the bruise.

Dabbing at the bruise, then swinging the cloth around to cool it back down was the only way I had to care for myself. My father certainly wouldn’t spring for an icepack… So I just sit in my room, nursing the injury, hoping the pain would subside.

I cried myself to sleep like I do most nights, my tears mixing with the stains of previous tears, as I hoped, even prayed, that I would find some method of escape.

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