My Hope

JUST US NOW

The leftover food wasn’t much, but it was something.

I split it in half, sliding the smaller portion toward Cherry. She sniffed it suspiciously, her whiskers twitching, then took a few reluctant nibbles before backing away again. She was still jumpy—still not sure if I was safe to trust. I didn’t blame her. Trust didn’t come easy anymore.

I sat cross-legged on the bathroom floor, the cold tiles biting through my skin. The same bathroom I had locked myself in since yesterday—maybe longer. The door was shut tight. I’d jammed an old broom under the handle just in case. Every creak in the house made my heart race. Every gust of wind scratching at the window sent chills down my spine. The world outside still felt like a threat.

But I had one thing—one thought—that kept my heart from completely breaking apart.

Him.

The man who did this. The man who shattered my life, who tore away everything I ever knew. I didn’t know his name, but I remembered his face. Cold. Cruel. The way he looked at my parents like they were nothing.

Someday, I would find him.

And the next time I saw him, I would end it.

No more running. No more hiding. No more waiting for justice that would never come.

I pulled my knees to my chest, watching Cherry as she curled into herself beside the sink. Her white fur looked dull under the harsh light, and her eyes followed every movement I made. Like me, she hadn’t truly slept in days.

The house creaked again. I flinched.

It was all too much—the silence, the fear, the stillness of this place that used to be my home. I pressed my back to the wall and stared at the cracked tiles across from me. The stain near the base of the toilet had always bothered Mama, and I remembered how she’d grumble while scrubbing it, humming under her breath to stay calm. I could almost hear her voice now, soft and warm, filling the silence.

But it was just in my head.

Mama was gone.

And Daddy too.

I blinked hard, refusing to let the tears fall again. I’d cried so much in the past few days that it felt like I had no more left. Only rage. Only this heavy emptiness sitting in my chest like a stone I couldn’t cough up.

Somewhere outside, a dog barked. Then silence again. Just the wind, and the sound of my own breathing.

Cherry shifted, letting out a soft, anxious meow. I reached out a hand, slow and careful, not wanting to scare her again. She flinched but didn’t run this time. That was something.

“Good girl,” I whispered, barely loud enough to hear myself.

I didn’t know how long I sat there. Hours maybe. The light from the small window overhead faded into dull grey, then deepened into black. Night came slowly, creeping in like it was trying to catch me off guard.

But I was already too broken to be caught.

My stomach growled. Cherry stirred but didn’t eat more. I picked up the crust of bread she left behind and chewed it slowly, not because I was hungry, but because it was all I had.

Then I laid my head back against the cold tile wall, and I waited.

Waited for someone to come.

Waited for the world to make sense again.

But no police came. No rescuers. No neighbors knocking to see if I was okay. Maybe they were too scared. Maybe they didn’t know. Or maybe they just didn’t care.

All I got was silence.

At some point between fear and exhaustion, my body gave in. My eyes drifted closed. I don’t remember dreaming.

But when I woke, everything had shifted.

A pair of wide, curious eyes stared into mine. Cherry’s.

Her tiny face hovered close to mine, her breath warm against my cheek, her white fur almost glowing in the dim light. Her front paw lightly touched my arm, like she was checking if I was still alive.

Instinctively, I screamed.

It wasn’t loud, just a raw, startled cry that slipped from my throat before I could stop it. Cherry bolted backward with a squeaky meow, her tail puffing up like a bottlebrush as she scurried to the far corner of the bathroom.

I blinked, heart pounding, then—strangely—I laughed.

The sound felt foreign in my mouth. Like something I hadn’t used in years.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered through a breathless smile. “You scared me, Cherry.”

She peered at me from the corner, her ears twitching. I reached out again, slower this time, and she came closer. Crawled right into my lap.

“I guess it’s just us now,” I murmured, stroking the soft fur along her back.

Her purrs started almost immediately. Not loud, but steady. Rhythmic. Soothing.

The tension in my shoulders loosened a little. Just a little.

I leaned my head against the wall again, Cherry’s warmth pressed against me, and for the first time since that night, I let my eyes close with something almost like peace.

We had no plan.

No safety.

No family left.

But we had each other.

And tomorrow—if I was strong enough—we’d figure out where to go from here.