Against Every Odd

Part 2

He waved a hand lazily. "Relax... it's just a little fun..."

"A little fun?" Rosie's voice rose. "Do you know what your father would say if he weren't passed out? Or do you even care about this house? About Mom?"

Her brother's expression hardened, a mix of defiance and guilt crossing his face. "Don't lecture me, Rosie! You're always on my case!"

"I'm not lecturing!" she shot back, frustration boiling over. "I'm tired of cleaning up after you and him! Someone has to take responsibility!"

The argument escalated quickly, voices echoing off the walls, each word sharp and filled with years of resentment. Finally, Rosie turned away, running a hand through her hair, fighting back tears. Her brother muttered something under his breath and slouched into the kitchen, leaving Rosie standing in the middle of the messy living room, her chest heavy with fatigue and anger.

She exhaled slowly, her hands trembling slightly as she straightened the last of the clutter. Despite everything, she forced herself to finish cleaning before heading to work—another day in a house that never felt like home.

She locked her bedroom door behind her, taking a deep breath as she prepared to head out for work. She grabbed her earphones, plugging them in so she could listen to music on the way, a small comfort against the weight she carried.

Her steps were slow as she walked through the quiet park of her housing complex. The morning was still, almost eerily so, and the emptiness around her mirrored the heaviness in her heart.

Each day felt the same—monotonous, unchanging, as though time itself had settled into a repetitive loop. The same silence greeted her, the same shadows and memories tugged at her mind, and each step she took seemed heavier than the last.

She exhaled softly, trying to push the melancholy aside, but it clung to her, persistent and inescapable.

As she walked slowly through the quiet garden, memories of her mother surfaced unbidden. She could almost see her mother laughing, sitting on the balcony, watching her children play, a warmth that now felt painfully distant.

The soft notes of "Grown Ups" by Sondia played in her earphones, drifting into her mind like a gentle whisper. The melody intertwined with her memory, making the image of her mother even more vivid—and the ache in her chest even sharper.

For a moment, she let herself linger on that memory, letting the music and the thought of happier times wash over her, even as the weight of the present pressed heavily down.

When Rosie arrived at work, she slipped into her usual routine, moving through the motions with practiced efficiency. The tasks, the faces, the noise—they were all familiar, yet they never lessened the weight she carried inside.

She ignored the passing hours, as always skipping lunch, letting her stomach ache quietly while she focused on her duties. Eating had become an afterthought, something she only allowed herself at night, during dinner, when the day was finally done and she could retreat into the small comfort of her home.

The monotony of her schedule mirrored the monotony of her life: work, home, repeat. And yet, amidst it all, a quiet determination lingered somewhere in the depths of her mind, a small ember refusing to die.

Finally, the whistle signaled the end of her shift. Rosie wiped the sweat from her brow and packed her bag, stepping out into the evening air with a sense of quiet relief. She didn't head home yet—there was still another shift waiting.

The convenience store was a short walk away, and she arrived just as the sun dipped below the horizon. The fluorescent lights greeted her with a stark, cold glow, and the hum of the refrigerators filled the silence as she clocked in.