Chapter Text
It was a Saturday, or at least she thought it was. Her days seemed to be morphing together as they went on. She moaned as she leaned forward in her bed and was once again reminded of where she was. She had been sleeping on a blow up mattress on the floor of her dad’s apartment.
After her mom had kicked her out, she knew her dad would welcome her back with open arms. Afterall, she was the one who ran away from him in the first place.
Her dad is a hot-headed alcoholic who cares about nothing but himself. His apartment is disgusting, and most days is filled with his angry cursing and in-depth conspiracy theories. Still, it was better than being homeless, which was her only other option.
She had lost her job the day her mom had kicked her out, causing her to be late. Her mom had thrown all her belongings outside and refused to drive her anywhere. Alyson walked an hour to her job that day. The only thing that greeted her was her boss with disappointment and frustration on his face, telling her she had used all her chances and was fired.
She cried the entire walk back, she had really liked her job as a waitress. She was social enough to make good tips, and the work wasn’t too hard once she got the hang of it.
When she had finally made it back to her moms house, her eyes were red and puffy. She stared down to the few items she did own, still outside on the grass. And, after weighing her options, concluded the best one was calling her father.
She hadn’t talked to him in months. She had left in the middle of the night after he had come home in a drunken furry. He had pushed her into the living room table, mumbling something about her being just like her mother. She knew she looked like her, but her father made sure to remind her often that he couldn’t stand looking at her as it reminded him of all their horrible memories together.
Insults struck her one after the other, from the one man a daughter is meant to count on. She pulled herself out of her thoughts, and held her breath as the phone rang. She couldn’t help but feel uneasy about the cheerful tone found in her fathers voice.
She had been living with him again for a few weeks now. Because she still wasn’t working, he expected her to run errands for him and keep up with the house. Although this seems like a fair trade, she was criticized and degraded the entire time, leaving her already not great mental health even worse.
Not to mention her father is a slob who drinks himself the equivalent of 8-10 teenage boys. He also had women over often, which honestly surprised her, because when they aren’t around one of his main topics of conversation is his hatred towards the opposite sex.
Finding herself lost in thought once again, she got out of bed and looked towards her fathers bedroom door, it appeared he was still asleep. She looked at the clock on the stove: 8:37 A.M. She had never slept well, but that was proven even more evident in these last few weeks.
She began making herself some scrambled eggs. She had never been a good cook, but was forced to care for herself from a young age. She remembered a night when she was young, couldn’t have been over 6, crying to her mom about how she hadn’t eaten that day.
Her mother had told her to shut up, that if she was so hungry she could go into the kitchen and figure something out for herself. She often ate cheese sandwiches growing up, something always available in the house and easy to prepare.
She put two pieces of bread into the toaster and started a pot of coffee. She observed the view from her fathers apartment window. It didn’t offer much of a sight, but she could see the sun rising over the warm, autumn colors that were now in full effect.
Autumn was her favorite season. The cool weather, the beautiful changing colors combined with the crunching of leaves always reminded her of the beauty nature offered.
Although she didn’t have much planned today, she had no doubt her father would have a list for her to do for him once he woke up. She finished preparing her meal and had barely sat down to eat before she heard noise behind her fathers bedroom door. She sighed deeply, he was up early. Most mornings she had at least until 10 before he would walk out and begin his insults for the day.
He rubbed his eyes as he walked out of his room and approached her, appearing hungover, though she’d be more shocked if he wasn’t. “Smells good,” he breathed, “For me?” It kept everything in her not to roll her eyes, but she didn’t want to start a fight so early in the morning.
However, considering the food was sitting in front of her, she knew it was clear she had made the meal for herself. “No," She decided to answer simply, "I didn’t think you would be up this early.” She added, again, hoping to avoid his normal wrath. He picked up a piece of her toast, “Ungrateful bitch.” He blurted out, walking past her to the bathroom.
She was surprised he stopped there, typically more followed. She never understood how he was so hostile just waking up. She remembered staying up many nights as a kid listening to her parents scream at one another, wondering what her mom saw in him, and vise-versa.
Her parents were two hate-filled, selfish people who shouldn’t have procreated. In fact, her mom had told her numerous times she was an accident, and a large part of why her parents divorced in the first place. So now, here she was, unwanted by both and feeling as lost as ever.
She managed to finish her breakfast before he made it back out of the bathroom. “Do you want me to make you something else?,” She forced out, reminding herself he was letting her stay here rent free. “Oh, now you’re worried if I fucking eat something?” She chose silence as the best answer to that. She refused to apologize.
She also refused to beg to make him something, but would put the offer out there. “No actually,” he broke the silence, “I have other things I need you to do for me, and I want you out or the house all day.” She looked up at him quickly. “Things like?” He said nothing and handed her a list.
She read over the first few items of the list before looking back up at her fathers gaze. “Keep yourself busy until late." He repeated. She didn’t pry, just looked back down at the list. Most of the tasks were normal; get groceries, drop off mail, return something he bought and apparently no longer needed. She went over each one until she reached the bottom.
GET A JOB was written, bolder than the rest and underlined for the added effect. She looked up again and was once again greeted with his already prying eyes. “Seems that last one is really important.” She said blankly, though sure there was bite in her voice.
He began walking over to her quickly, causing her to back up into the wall. He pointed his finger towards her face. “I’m sick of your attitude little girl,” he snapped, “If you are going to act like a bitch, you are at least going to pay your keep.” He loomed over her, breathing heavily. “I’m doing you a favor letting you stay here, don’t you fucking forget that.” Once satisfied with her silence he backed away from her. She walked past him to the bathroom, holding back the tears that had formed in her eyes.
She stared at herself in the mirror, not recognizing the girl looking back at her. She hadn’t been eating much, and her sleep schedule was close to nonexistent. She was the smallest she had ever been, her pale frame not looking sickly, but also not the typical curves she had always prided herself in having.
Her hair was long and curly, reaching just under her breasts. Her hazel eyes were cradled by dark bags, looking lifeless and defeated. She thought back to how motivated she had once been, hopeful for a future she could enjoy, but with each passing day, things seemed to become more and more unrealistic and unreachable.
She washed her face and brushed her teeth. Her hair was its natural color, a strawberry blonde that fell into slight waves. She had always disliked her hair. It wasn’t curly enough to lay nicely in ringlets, but also wasn’t a subtle beach wave. It kinked in some places and curled more in others. She pulled the top layer back into a ponytail and left the rest down.
She glanced over to her makeup. She didn’t wear it often, but figured if she was going to look for a job, she should at least make herself presentable. She decided on brown eyeshadow and mascara. Her skin was surprisingly clear, so she only used a light powder on her face and gave her lips a layer of gloss.
Once out of the bathroom, she found her father with his nose to the T.V eating cereal. She tried to bypass him to her suitcase containing the little bit of clothes she owned. She didn’t have a lot, and certainly didn’t own much when it came to looking put together and professional.
She threw on her best pair of jeans and a plain white shirt, tucking it in. Finally she paired everything with a gray cardigan and boots. Leaving with her phone and small brown bag, she made her way to the door.
“I’m serious about staying away from here today,” her father started from the living room, “don’t come back until after 11 tonight.” She glanced up at the clock, 9:45 A.M. “Are you fucking deaf?” Her father hissed. “No, I heard you, 11.” She shut the door behind her.