The DEMON BRIDE

POV: ELENA "Corporate signed off on it ten minutes ago, Elena," my manager said, refusing to look up from his phone screen. "Leave your apron on the desk. Security is waiting in the lobby." I stared at him, my knuckles turning white against the edge of his mahogany desk. "Five years, Gary. I worked five years here without calling in sick once." "And corporate appreciates your service," he said, sliding a thin yellow envelope across the dark wood. "Here is your final check. Sign the release form on your way out." "I covered your shifts for three weeks straight when your son had the flu, Gary. I stayed when three other girls quit in the same month." "I appreciated it then," he said, his thumb swiping across his screen. "Business is business. Sign the paper, or I'll hold the final check until next month." My hand shook as I took the pen. I signed my name in one long, jagged stroke, dropped the pen on his desk, and pulled my apron off over my head. I tossed it onto his keyboard, but he barely even flinched. "Have a good afternoon," he told the blank wall behind me. I walked out through the kitchen. The girl I trained three weeks ago looked away the second my eyes met hers. She knew. They all knew before I walked into that office. Security escorted me past the glass doors, the heavy frame clicking shut behind me with a sound like a trap locking into place. I pulled out my phone with cold, stiff fingers and texted Danielle. Gary just fired me. I cannot breathe right now. My hands will not stop shaking. Her reply popped up before I even reached the bus stop at the corner. OMG babe! Do not sit there alone! Come over to Marcus's place right now, we will fix this together! I skipped the bus and walked the six blocks to Marcus's apartment complex, my chest so tight I could barely draw air. Marcus always knew how to make the bad days smaller. Marcus would tell me we could figure it out together. I used the spare key he gave me last Christmas, turning the deadbolt silently. "Marcus?" I called out, shutting the front door behind me. "Are you home?" A soft sound came from the back bedroom. It sounded like a quiet, smothered laugh. I walked down the narrow hallway, my sneakers quiet against the wooden floorboards. The bedroom door stood open an inch. "Stop it," a woman's voice giggled from inside the room. "She said she was on her way over." "She can wait five minutes," Marcus said, his voice deep and lazy. I pushed the door wide open. Danielle sat on top of the dark blue sheets wearing Marcus's gray workout shirt, her long hair messy over her shoulders. Marcus was leaning back against the pillows, his arm wrapped tight around her waist. Danielle looked up, her smile dropping for half a second before her face turned completely smooth. "Oh. You got here fast." My mouth opened, but no sound came out. The bedroom seemed to tilt sideways. "Elena," Marcus said, not even pulling his arm away from her waist. "You should have knocked." "What is this?" I managed to whisper. "Danielle, what are you doing in his bed?" "Look at her," Danielle said, turning to Marcus with a slow roll of her eyes. "She is already making a scene." "What is this?!" I screamed, the sound ripping right out of my chest. "You text me to come here because I lost my job, and you are in bed with my boyfriend?!" Marcus pulled his arm back and sat up, swinging his bare legs over the edge of the mattress. He reached for a pair of jeans on the floor and pulled them on without a single trace of shame on his face. "Do not act so surprised," Marcus said, zipping his pants. "This has been going on since April." "April?" I stared at him, my vision blurring with heat. "You came to my family's house for Easter in April! You hugged my mother!" "And your mother served us plain rice because you guys could not afford meat," Danielle said, stepping out of the bed and picking up her denim shorts. "It was embarrassing, Elena." "You were my best friend," I said, turning on her. "Since we were seven years old! I shared my clothes with you when you had nothing!" "And now you have nothing," Danielle said, pulling her hair back into a sleek ponytail. "Marcus deserves someone who can actually go out on weekends. Someone who does not count change before ordering a side salad." "Is that what this is?" I looked at Marcus. "You threw away two years because I am poor?" "Being poor is exhausting, Elena," Marcus said, taking a step toward me. His eyes were cold, like I was a stranger begging for spare change on the street. "You are always stressed. You are always crying about rent. I want a girlfriend, not a charity project." "I never asked you for a single dollar!" "You did not have to!" he snapped, his voice rising. "Every time we went out, I had to pay because I knew you were saving for your dad's medicine. I am done with it. Give me back my apartment key." "No," I said, backing toward the hallway. "You do not get to speak to me like this." Marcus stepped forward and grabbed my wrist. His grip was tight, prying my fingers open to snatch the brass key from my palm. "Let go of me!" I shoved him back with everything I had left. Marcus stumbled against the doorframe, recovered his balance, and shoved me back hard. My heel caught the rug, and I flew backward, my side slamming against the sharp edge of the hallway console table. A glass vase tipped over, shattering on the floorboards, and my left palm was sliced open against a jagged shard as I reached out to catch myself. Blood pooled in the center of my hand, dripping onto his pale carpet. "Look at what you did," Marcus spat, looking at the stain with utter disgust. "Get out of my house." Danielle laughed quietly under her breath behind him. "Drop the key, Elena," Danielle said, her voice completely calm. "Or he calls the building manager for trespassing." I opened my fingers and let the bloody key drop onto the floor. I turned around and walked out, slamming the heavy front door behind me hard enough to shake the walls. I made it three blocks before my legs gave out. I sat on a stranger's concrete front step, wrapping my bleeding hand in a dirty tissue from my pocket, and cried until my ribs thudded with pain. A woman waiting at the bus stop asked if I was alright, but I just shook my head. The truth was too heavy to hand to a stranger. By the time I reached my family's apartment, the sun was completely down. The smell of boiling water and old cabbage hit me the second I opened the door. My mother stood at the small stove, stirring a black pot. She turned around, took one look at my face, and dropped her wooden spoon onto the floor. "Elena! Your hand! What happened?" My father stood up from the kitchen table so fast his chair screeched against the linoleum. "Who did this to you?" "I lost my job," I said, my voice cracking right down the middle. "And Marcus... Marcus was in bed with Danielle." My younger brother, Leo, walked out of his bedroom holding an old textbook. He looked at my bloody hand, and his jaw locked tight. "I will go break his nose right now." "You will sit down," my mother commanded, her voice shaking as she pulled me toward the sink. She ran cold tap water over my palm, wincing as I bit my lip to keep from crying out. "Nobody is going anywhere tonight." "We cannot just let him get away with this, Mom!" Leo shouted. "He hurt her!" "And what will you do if you end up in jail, Leo?" my father asked, his voice sounding ten years older than it did yesterday. He sat back down and buried his face in his hands. "The contractor sent us all home today. Says there is no money left to pay us." I froze, ignoring the sting of the water on my raw skin. "What do you mean, no money?" "The job site is closed," my father whispered. "We have nothing coming in now, Elena. Nothing." My mother wrapped my hand tight with a clean dish towel, pinning it with a safety pin. She walked back to the stove, filled four plastic bowls with a ladle, and set them on the table. Plain white rice. A single spoonful of red pepper sauce on top. No meat, no vegetables, no eggs. "Eat," my mother said softly, setting a bowl in front of me. Leo looked at his plate, then at my mother's empty hands. "Mom, where is your food?" "I ate while cooking," she lied, avoiding his eyes. "This is the fourth day of plain rice, Mom," Leo said quietly. "Is there really nothing else?" "We eat what we have," my father said, though his eyes were wet. Leo looked across the table at me. He picked up his glass of tap water and raised it high in the air. "Well, here is to getting rid of two clowns in one day. Marcus looked like a wet mop that learned how to talk anyway." A tiny, broken laugh escaped my throat before I could stop it. "He really did." "I could have taken him in a fight too," Leo added, grinning through his teeth. "If I were five inches taller and had a wooden bat." We all laughed - a quiet, fragile sound in the dim kitchen - until I caught my mother wiping a tear from her cheek when she thought we were not looking. I stood up, leaving my rice half-eaten. "I am going to lie down." I walked into my small bedroom and closed the door. I sat on the edge of my narrow mattress, listening through the thin plaster wall. "Mom," Leo's voice came through soft and low. "Is there any more rice?" "Tomorrow, baby," my mother whispered back. "Go to sleep." I pressed my bandaged palm against my mouth to muffle the sob tearing through my chest. Never again. I made the promise right there in the dark, listening to my brother go to sleep hungry. Never again would I let my family sit in a dark room eating plain rice while I sat around crying over people who did not care if I lived or died. I pulled my phone out of my pocket with my good hand. The screen was cracked across the corner, but it lit up. I opened the browser and started scrolling through local job postings, skipping past the minimum-wage diner ads that wouldn't even cover our electric bill. Near the bottom of the page, a brand-new posting appeared, refreshed just seconds ago. Vale Enterprises. Executive Assistant to the CEO. Starting Salary: $150,000/year. I stared at the numbers on the screen, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. With trembling fingers, I filled in my name, attached my resume, and pressed Apply.