DESPERATE

30 - Nineteen Years Later

Leaning against the booth, the nineteen-year-old brushed her chestnut-brown hair off her shoulders. She gazed through the smudged windows at the bleak parking lot, where a few cars and a stray cat were the only signs of life. The night was dark and silent, except for the occasional buzz of the neon sign that spelled out Shady's Diner. She hated working here, but she had no choice. It was the only place that would hire her, and she needed the money. Her family never helped with anything, leaving her to do all the chores and pay all the bills. She checked her watch. Only ten minutes left until her shift was over, but she felt no relief. Going home meant facing her mother, who would be either passed out on the sofa or slurring insults at her. She had seen it too many times to care. She wished she could escape this dead-end town, but she knew it was impossible. Her tips were meager, and her savings were nonexistent. The customers were mostly creeps, who either ignored her or harassed her. She turned them all down, even the ones who offered to pay her for more than just food. She had some self-respect, unlike her mother.

She closed her eyes and hummed a song, a melody that had been stuck in her head for as long as she could remember. She didn't know where it came from, or what it meant. It wasn't something she heard on the radio, or something her mother sang to her. It was her own song, a song without words, but full of meaning. A song that gave her a glimmer of hope. She deserved a moment of peace.

But her peace was shattered by the loud voice of her manager. A short, balding man with a red face and a bushy mustache, he stormed toward her and yelled, “Cyrie, what are you doing? You shouldn't be sleeping on the job. I didn't pay you for that.”

“I wasn't sleeping,” Cyrie protested. “I was just taking a little break before my shift was over.”

Her manager snorted, “A break? There's no break in this job. Get to work and mop this dirty floor before other customers arrive.”

Cyrie watched him stomp off to his office. “What a jerk!” she muttered under her breath. She hated working for him. He was always mean, demanding, and unfair. He paid her minimum wage and never gave her any tips or bonuses. He treated her like a slave.

She grabbed the mop and bucket and started to clean the floor. She wished she could quit this job and find something better. But she had no other options.

As she was mopping, a truck driver who came out of the restroom passed by her and slapped her behind hard. She gasped and turned around. He was a tall, muscular man with greasy hair and a crooked nose. He winked at her and said, “Hey, sweetie, how about you and me have some fun later?”

She wanted to punch him in the face and make his nose more crooked than it already was. He was disgusting and disrespectful. He had no right to touch her like that. She felt violated and angry.

But all she could do was clench both of her fists and bite her tongue. It wasn't worth the trip to jail for assaulting a customer. She had to endure this harassment every day. She had no power, no voice, no dignity. She was trapped in this hell.

Cyrie glanced at her watch again. Finally, her shift was over. She could go home now. But she felt no joy or relief at the thought. Home had never been a happy place for her. She had to endure her mother's drunken rants and her brother's cruel taunts.

Todd was supposed to be her protector, her ally, her big brother. But he was none of those things. He despised her for reasons she could never understand. Ever since they were kids, he would torment her at every opportunity. He would destroy her toys, mock her dreams, and make her cry. And every time he did, something strange would happen. He would suffer some kind of freak accident, as if fate were punishing him for his misdeeds. Sometimes, the accidents were so severe that they almost killed him. He was terrified of these events, and of Cyrie. He blamed her for his bad luck, and hated her even more. He dropped out of high school and ran away from home.