Luana Wu (9) | STAFF REPORTER
I tied a piece of black fabric around the bottom of my face and flipped the hood of my cloak over my head. Then, I strolled onto the street, my feet splashing in the puddles. Rain fell in a steady stream, soaking my clothes and making me shiver. I tucked my hands into the pockets on my pants and continued walking, keeping my head down.
Every now and then, people stared at me, their expressions telling me that they were judging me. Probably judging the way I was dressed and how I seemed to blend in with my surroundings. That was the way I liked being: invisible. Nobody paid any attention to me anyways, so I may as well just dress the way everyone saw me.
I made my way through the streets and didn’t stop until I reached my home. Every step was heavy and full of guilt. I was guilty of many things, but what really weighed down on me were the lies I was telling my mom. She smoked and was constantly drunk, which made her oblivious to her surroundings. She had no idea that we were so low on money, or that I was trying so hard to get a job.
I told her that we were doing just fine and she had nothing to worry about. I ground my teeth at that thought. Everything was not fine. Because I had received very little education when I was younger and never went to high school. As a result, I couldn’t go to university or college. So, that left me uneducated and no one wanted to hire someone like me. I tried every day to get someone to hire me; I even begged. Unfortunately, nobody had a shred of pity for me. After all, the “unsaid” rule in the city was that you looked after yourself and no one else. It was basically everybody for themselves.
Because I had no job, I had no money and couldn’t pay rent to our landlord. So I resorted to other methods. Little thief, my sister called me. Cunning, deceitful liar, my brother nicknamed me. I snorted. They had practically done nothing to help me make money; instead, they’d gotten married to some wealthy lord or lady and left the city. That was an option for me but unlike them, I actually cared about my mom. They hadn’t even cared when our dad had died a year ago from cancer.
Naturally, the other part of the guilt was the stealing and the merciless mask I had put on. Sometimes when I couldn’t stealthily steal somebody’s money, I threatened to kill them. They always gave in to me because a dagger at their throats was enough to scare the life out of them. Or sometimes they’d fight back and I was forced to defend myself… I didn’t like to think about what had to happen.
Sighing heavily, I made a right turn and stopped at the apartment building. I took my keys out and unlocked the door. My mom and I lived on the top floor, which was ten stories up. There was no elevator in this building whereas the better maintained buildings were full of them. I stifled my groan as I beheld the stairs. Stairs were my worst enemy.
By the time I reached the tenth floor, I was gasping for air. I fumbled with the key for a moment, but managed to slide it in and turn it. I closed the door behind me, my heart thumping wildly in my chest.
“Mom?” I called. “Are you here?”
Silence.
I took my hood off and pulled the fabric down. I scanned the room. It was the same: dirty floorboards, a leaky ceiling, flaking wallpaper, and ruined furniture. Shards of glass and cigarettes were scattered across the floor. The door to my mom’s room was thrown wide open, and my mom was lying facedown on the floor. There was some vomit next to her.
I tapped her shoulder. “Mom?”
Nothing.
I heaved her up while trying not to gag. My mom smelled of smoke, alcohol, and vomit. I wrinkled my nose at the smell and dragged her to the couch where I slid a pillow underneath her head. My fingers lingered on her forehead and I couldn’t help but cry. Seeing my mom like this… it made me so angry. I rested my hand on her forehead and frowned. It was hot. Like burning hot. She had another fever. I only had a few pills left, much to my dismay.
Moving away from her, I dropped a pouch half-filled with coins on the table. It was hardly enough. I did have some guy’s wallet, though. There were only a few five dollar bills in there, along with some change. No cards, I thought sadly. People these days were becoming more and more cautious. Although if I were them, I would be wary too.
Combined, I had thirty dollars. Today wasn’t bad, but I needed more. The landlord was expecting us to pay this month’s rent by next week, and all the money I’d collected wasn’t even close to what I needed. I saved the money from the guy’s wallet and decided to use the coins for candles and medicine. However, these coins would probably only be enough for medicine. It looked like there wouldn’t be any light tonight. All the candles I had right now were just lumps of wax. Despite my longing for light, my mom’s health came first. If only she didn’t spend money on alcohol and cigarettes, then I might be able to afford the basic necessities…
I pushed that thought out of my mind. I opened the fridge and took out an apple. As I ate, I watched my mom. She hadn’t so much as stirred in the past five minutes and as I gazed at her, I whispered to myself, “I have nothing. I am nothing.”
Then shaking my head, I said, “Things are going to get better. Soon. Just hold on for a little while longer.” It was a lie, but I told myself to believe it anyway.
