Between Love And Lies

SEARCHING FOR SURVIVAL

FIVE.

The sun had barely risen when Joy was already on the streets again. The chill of the early morning bit at her thin coat, but she ignored it. Hunger had become a dull, constant ache, one that she had learned to live with, and exhaustion pressed heavily on her shoulders. Yet, she knew she had no choice. Ella depended on her. Every step she took was a step she had to take, even if it led only to disappointment.

Her bag was light, almost empty, holding only the smallest of necessities: a change of clothes, a little bread, and a small notebook where she scribbled addresses and opportunities for work.

---

Her first stop was a large market she had never dared visit alone before. Merchants were already arranging their goods, shouting prices, negotiating with early customers. Joy moved quietly, trying to appear confident, though her hands shook with nervousness.

"Excuse me, sir," she called to a man stacking sacks of rice. "Do you... do you need help? I can carry, sweep, or do anything."

The man looked at her, eyebrows raised. "You? You're barely bigger than a child. What would you even do here?"

Joy's cheeks flushed, but she tried to stand taller. "Please. I can work. I will do whatever you ask. Anything."

The man laughed, a sharp, cruel sound. "Anything? Go help someone your own size. Or better yet, go home before you embarrass yourself."

Joy's chest ached, but she did not cry. Not yet. She moved on. She had no choice but to continue.

---

The day passed in a blur of rejection. At a small café, she was asked to wash dishes for no pay and mocked when she protested. At a clothing stall, the owner told her to come back when she was older and stronger. At a tiny convenience shop, a young boy shoved her aside, shouting, "We don't hire kids!"

By mid-afternoon, her legs ached and her stomach growled, the small bread from the morning long gone. She found a quiet corner to sit and rest, watching the bustling market around her. People moved quickly, busy with their own lives, indifferent to her suffering.

A small wave of despair threatened to overwhelm her. She thought briefly of running away again, of leaving Ella with relatives who had insisted on taking her anyway. But the thought of Ella's small, trusting face stopped her cold. She could not abandon her sister. Not again.

---

Joy spent the next few days moving from market to market, shop to shop, trying to find even the smallest job. At a bakery, she was asked to kneel for hours in the hot kitchen, only to be scolded when a tray of pastries burnt slightly. At a tailor's, she was laughed at for fumbling with the sewing machine. At a delivery service, the manager shook his head.

"You're too small. Too weak. Come back when you're older," he said.

Each rejection was like a weight pressing into her chest. Her hands became raw from scrubbing, her feet blistered from walking, her stomach empty for hours at a time. Yet she continued. Each "no" was a reminder that survival demanded persistence. She could not give up.

---

One evening, as the sky grew dark and the market emptied, Joy sat on the steps of a closed shop. She rested her head in her hands, tears threatening to spill. Hunger, exhaustion, and frustration collided, and for a brief moment, she considered giving up.

But then she thought of Ella. She thought of her sister's laughter, her small achievements, her trust. Joy pressed her lips together, refusing to cry in the street. She would endure, she told herself. She had no choice. She would endure for Ella, no matter how bitter, no matter how exhausting, no matter how unfair.

---

The following morning, she returned home with a small bag of food she had earned from washing dishes at a neighbor's house. Ella ran to her, eyes wide with joy.

"You found something, Joy! We can eat tonight!"

Joy smiled faintly, handing her sister the food. "Yes, Ella. We'll eat. We'll survive."

Ella hugged her tightly. "I love you, Joy."

Joy held her close, feeling the mixture of love, guilt, and exhaustion in her chest. She had survived hunger, rejection, and despair. But she knew this was only the beginning. Responsibility was heavy, and the world offered no kindness.

---

The days turned into weeks. Joy's routine became grueling and relentless. Each day began before sunrise, with a small breakfast for Ella and hurried preparations for another search for work. Each day ended with blistered hands, aching feet, and empty pockets. But she persisted, learning how to endure each small humiliation, each scolding word, each disappointment.

The pressure from relatives did not ease. They continued to criticize, offering advice she could not follow. "You should let Ella live with Uncle Peter," Aunt Marge repeated every few days. "You're too young, Joy. You'll ruin her life trying to raise her."

Joy smiled politely, but her heart burned. She would not allow Ella to be sent away. No matter what, she would care for her sister.

---

Even amidst misery, small victories appeared. Ella continued to thrive at school, bringing home small achievements that made Joy's heart swell. A new dish learned, a drawing praised by her teacher, a friendship formed...each tiny accomplishment reminded Joy why she endured so much.

At night, she often knelt beside Ella's bed, brushing her hair and whispering, "We will survive. No matter what. I promise you, Ella, nothing will ever harm you as long as I am here."

Sometimes, after Ella fell asleep, Joy allowed herself a moment to cry quietly. She wept for her lost youth, for the life she would never have, for the endless struggle she faced. But always, she returned to resolve, to determination. She had learned that survival demanded both pain and persistence.

---

By the end of the month, Joy's body was thinner, her hands rough and calloused, her face pale and worn. But beneath the exhaustion, a quiet fire burned. She had endured hunger, rejection, and humiliation. She had faced the cold indifference of the world and survived. And she had discovered a truth: she could not escape responsibility, and she would not.

Joy looked down at Ella, sleeping peacefully on the small mat, and whispered softly, "No matter what, I will never leave you. I will fight for you. I will endure, and we will survive together."

And somewhere deep within, Joy felt the first stirrings of something dangerous: the recognition that the world was cruel, that she had sacrificed too much, and that someday, she might demand her own place in it.

But for now, she endured. For Ella. For survival. For love that demanded strength beyond her years.