Crumbling Cakes

Part XIII

A realization that had me shouting "Where are my sacred blinders?!"

After what happened with Caleb, I vowed to lay off relationships until I was far away from here. Think Jenny in the field begging to be a bird to fly far, far away. To fly beyond the grasp of Bathilda and her minions. It was always the plan to put as much distance between myself and this city as was within my means. After all, that's what all this saving was for. All this stomach cramping, penny-pinching. I had zero intention of living in another storage box while I hid from my mother.

I wanted to go to another state, one where the cost of living was far cheaper than the city I've known my whole life. From there I could get by, survive, maybe start a future for myself and help others who have been in my position. I wasn't entirely directionless; only lacking sturdy purchase for that first step.

It was a dream anyway, but what I couldn't do was let Bathilda ever know what my intentions are. I don't think that she's all-powerful, but then again her reach has spread impressively far. She's screwed up my living situation three times already, I was far from eager to present her with another opportunity.

This is what I kept reminding myself when I toyed with fantasies of debauching my boss. He was a temptation of another sort—one that probably tasted as sweet as the things he created. Completely off-limits based on my misguided reactions, but oh what a misguided pursuit he would have been...

Deep, deep sigh. Did you feel that? Because I did, and it felt like the Universe punching me in the chest. A direct hit straight to the sternum.

I made my decision after the bridal shop; distance was necessary. Operation Dalia stays on track is in full swing. I just hope Sebastian gets on board with that and goes back to glowering and ignoring me. There is no room for derailment in my shoddy patched plan.

So what if he saw me practically naked? I could still face him. Look him in the eye...

Right, right. Tell that to your flushed reflection.

In the end, Monday took me through a lovely rollercoaster of painful realizations. Whereas Tuesday morning I regretted my life choices, cursed Bathilda's existence, and damned the universe for not having me live in warmer climates. A cold front blew in overnight, bringing the first stings of winter right to my doorstep.

Er... roll-up door ledge? Whatever, proper names not important. All anyone needs to know is that it's essentially a roll-up garage door.

I laid huddled in my blankets, trying to ignore the cold seeping through my mini bed pallet. Time to buy another small space heater—the thought burrowed in. Every year it was the same. At the first sign of cold, I went out and grabbed a shitty small space heater to keep me from turning into a human popsicle in the middle of the night. As you can imagine concrete walls and floors with roller doors provided next to no insulation.

Problem was the small space heaters typically crapped out right at the end of the season from overuse, if not sooner. I couldn't afford to spare extra cash for a better, more durable one. They tended to be bigger and cumbersome, which would be a problem in case I needed to make a quick getaway.

My hands shook and cramped in the cold as I tried to get dressed. There was no way I could make this journey twice. I would need every spare minute defrosting under the showerhead. I grabbed my canvas backpack and stuffed it with what I needed for the day.

Finally settling with the task that hurt the most. Savings inspection. I picked through my cash reserve, grimacing at its current standing. Shit, I was hoping to replace my jacket with the extra I had earned from the overtime but...the nights were only going to get colder from here on out.