My little monster | ✓

You

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Sometimes, it feels like I don't belong here with the rest. Living in the same town all my life and still never wanted to be around anyone there. It's a thought I'm trying to hideaway. It's foolish. If I don't belong here, where do I belong?

As a kid, I hoped some sort of magical creature, like a fairy, would come one day and take me along in their magical land. There I would live happily ever after. It was absurd, but it kept me going for a while. Needless to say, I don't believe in that anymore. There are no such things as magic and the perfect place. Now, I just try to get through every day, knowing I will never get my happy-ever-after ending.

The old wood creaks as I walk down the stairs to my mother's bed. The bed is in the main room with the lounge and kitchen area. We have put it there so that she can be with me and father for as much as she can. The mattress has started withering with time and it can't fit two people. We don't have many options.

I kiss my mother's hollow cheek and smile before leaving. Mother weakly waves goodbye as I'm out the door. She wants to see me happy, so I'm trying my best to be. The floor has a hole and I make sure not to step on it. There are traps like this all over the place. Our house is barely holding itself up at this point. Water stains extend across ceilings and run down walls because of our leaky roof. Our furniture is poorly built and can't do its job properly. Sometimes I wonder if we are going to make it through winter in these conditions.

The freezing winter wind attacks me the second I lay a foot outside the door. I clench my black cloak tighter to my body for warmth. It doesn't really make a difference, since it's so thin. My nose and fingers soon become numb.

The market is full as always. People shouting, trying to sell their products to bypassers. They are relentless, trying to convince you that they are offering you the deal of your life, but that's far from the truth. The small pouch strapped to the belt of my dress doesn't have much money, so I'll have to make smart choices.

Father works from dawn to late at night and I work from noon to ten in the evening. Still we are always short on money. There are very few jobs that pay you well these days.

As I'm picking some tomatoes, a shiver runs through my body. Today it's colder than usual, but something tells me it's not because of the weather. I space out for a second until I shake my head to bring my awareness back to reality.

It's nothing. I tell myself.

I only buy a few vegetables that if used wisely, should be enough to make something up for three days. I can survive eating a little less. My hands are weakened from the cold and the basket in my hand is getting heavier with each step.

In the house, mother is sleeping so I put everything away, trying to avoid making any noise. While closing a cupboard, I see something move from the corner of my eye. I shoot my head in its direction, but there's nothing unusual. I rub my eyes and sigh. I have been working a lot lately and the need for sleep must be catching up with me.

I glance at my mother one last time before running to work. The work in a factory is brutal. Hundreds of women like me spend hours making dresses until our eyes get sore and the skin of our fingertips has hardened. And all we get for our strenuous work is peanuts.

The building is massive, made with dark, dirty, red bricks, put so carelessly on top of each other it looks like it will fall in every moment. There are only a few small windows, so the air inside is always stuffy. I enter, hang my cloak and sit down at my place to start working.

While trying to focus on the task at hand, something keeps bothering me. I feel eyes on me. I try to ignore it until my gut is crushing me from the inside. I look around but notice no one. Everyone is at their designated places with their heads down.