Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“Well?” my mom prompts. “Are you ready to apologize?”
“Yes,” I say. “Dan, I’m sorry you’re a fucking rapist who blames everyone around him for his actions.” Then I look at my mom and I can’t stop the tears that flow quickly down my face. My heart is so full of sadness my chest feels tight. “Mom, I’m genuinely sorry you think this is the life you deserve because you’re too good for this. Never forget, I love you and I always will.”
Then I turn and leave the trailer, leaving Mom and Dan staring after me with open mouths. I’ve officially burnt my last bridge, but that’s alright. I’d sooner die on the streets than apologize to Dan.
I dash away the tears and make a promise. “One day, when I have(I’ve) made my fortune, I’ll come back for you, Mom. I swear it.”
The dusty road in front of me is empty so there are no witnesses to my forlorn whisper, but it’s a promise I won’t break.
4
AMELIA
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VcjzHMhBtf0
-just a small time girl-
I’ve been desperately walking the streets since I left three hours ago and I’m no closer to finding a job than I was at Dan’s hell hole.
I’ve literally walked into any business I’ve passed that looks even remotely like they might need staff and practically begged them for work, but it’s the same old story everywhere. They’re either not hiring, or they tell me to send in my resume. I feel like curling up in the gutter and crying my burning eyes out…
But I won’t do that. Or go back to the trailer.
I’ll make it or I’ll die trying.
To start with I’ve discovered the tiny amount of money I have will pay for two nights in a cheap motel, but I have no intention of using it up like that. I try to think where I can go.
Lucy’s place is out of the question. Her parents are super strict about having people staying over. I know if I tell her mom what happened, she will let me stay, but knowing her she’ll also probably want to call the cops and social services and God knows who else. I don’t want that.
I don’t want anybody thinking ill of my mother. No matter what, she is my mother and I’ll never betray her.
I don’t really have any other close friends. Sure, I have a few acquaintances, girls I hang out with now and again, but I can’t just turn up at their doorstep and ask them to house me until I sort my shit out.
I had colleagues at work and did get quite close to some of them. I guess Jason might put me up for the night, but the truth is I really don’t know him well enough to lay my problems on him. He might even have a girlfriend by now and me staying at his will go down like a lead balloon with her. The more I think about it, the more I shake off the idea. I’ve been ghetto Amelia and trailer trash Amelia for too long. I’m not going to let myself become slutty Amelia or seductress Amelia.
No, I’m on my own with this one.
I’m pulled out of my thoughts as a door of The Pink Flamingo opens to the side of me and a drunken man stumbles out, almost falling on top of me. He gives me a lopsided grin and I shrink back, but he just stumbles along on his way. I have to stop thinking everyone is like Dan. Just before the door closes shut, I see the inside of it. Dimly lit with wooden floors.
I scrunch my forehead. It is the biggest dive around here. Always full of people drinking too much too early. And fights like you wouldn’t believe. But I can’t help but look again at the sign taped to the door.
Help Wanted
Thing is, I’ve seen it already since I’ve been past this place twice and I’m just going in circles now, figuratively and literally, but this is the one place I haven’t been inside.
Do I really want to work in a place like this?
The answer is a clear no. I most definitely don’t, but it’s starting to seem like it might be my only option. I stand at the doorway, debating the pros and cons of going in.
I can’t help coming to the conclusion that it can’t be much worse than what I just left. Maybe this bar and I are a good fit. Maybe we deserve each other. We’re both at the bottom of the barrel. We’re both the thing people come to when they’re all out of other options.
Maybe working here won’t be as bad as I think.
I lean against the steamed-up window for a moment and think about it. If I can get a job here, I might make enough money to rent a little studio apartment, but even better if I stick it out for a few months and get some experience and a good reference, I might be able to find a better job waiting in a decent place. I lean against the wall by the door and think for another few minutes, pretending to myself that I have other options, but I don’t.