A year with the tycoon

Hilda's POV "Wake up, Hilda. You're late." My alarm was ringing threateningly beside my bed, and I groaned. I fumbled with my hand on the glassy surface until I was able to switch it off. The room was cold and darker than it ought to be, and the mouldy basement clung to the air. I lay there for a moment, staring at the cracked ceiling above me, listening to the faint sound of water dripping somewhere behind the walls. Well, I can't say I am late, I told myself, sitting up. "I'm never late." The thing was that I could not afford to be late. Not to any of my jobs. Not to life. I had my old jacket, plaited my hair behind my head, and went out in the early morning air. I felt the freshness of my face. The streets in Berlin were already swarming, and people were walking briskly, none of them seeing me. I faded into the city as an obliteration. Frau Ingrid did not even look at me when I entered the cafe, which is close to Alexanderplatz. “You are three minutes behind your watch,” she said indignantly. I am early, I said in a low voice, attempting to sound calm. She scoffed. "Don't argue. Table six needs cleaning." "Yes, ma'am." A man flicked his fingers at me as I cleaned the tables. "Miss, where is my coffee?" I'm bringing it now, I said, courtesy. Each day this place is getting worse, I tell you, my friend, I said. I did not want to hear him, and I set the cup in front of him. "Here you go, sir." He took a sip and frowned. "It's cold." "I'm sorry," I said. "I'll change it immediately." He moved his hand in disgust. "Just hurry." Another worker, who was standing behind the counter, whispered, How do you manage to be so calm? I forced a small smile. "Practice." My feet were sore by the time my shift was done. I hurried immediately to the second job at the grocery store without even pausing to take a breath. I was greeted by my supervisor, who called me Hilda. You know, we must have the shelves replenished. I will do it, I said, and rolled up my sleeves. My arms were on fire as I picked up delivery after delivery, and I was moving. As I was having a break, I sat on a crate and counted the money available in my wallet. "Not enough," I whispered. A coworker noticed. "You didn't eat again?" "I'm not hungry," I lied. "You'll collapse one day." "I can't afford to," I replied. In the afternoon, I was heading to Charité Hospital. As soon as I entered, my heart started racing. I smiled at the desk of nurse nervously. "Hi. I'm here to see my mother. Room 312." The nurse nodded kindly. "She's awake." I hurried into the room. "Mama." My mother slowly turned her head and smiled feebly. "You came again." Sure, said I, drawing a chair near. "How are you feeling today?" She sighed. "The pain comes and goes." "Did the doctors say anything?" I asked carefully. She shook her head. "They don't tell me much. They speak to you." I squeezed her hand. "You don't need to worry. I'm handling it." She studied my face closely. "You look tired." "I'm fine," I said quickly. "Work was busy." You work too much," she said to herself. I do not want you to take away your life because of me. Don't say that," I said, breaking my voice. "You are my life." A nurse came in to check the machines. She looked at me in a manner which I had been taught to dread. It's the doctor, Miss Karl, she said, it would please the doctor to speak to you. The doctor crossed his arms outside the room. Hilda, the situation of your mother is getting worse. My heart sank. "Worsening how?" "She needs further treatment. Possibly surgery." "How soon?" I asked. "As soon as possible." "And the cost?" I whispered. He named the amount. I stared at him. "That's impossible." He sighed. "I wish I had better news." I nodded slowly. "Thank you for telling me." I went home that same evening, having finished my last job in cleaning offices. When I had reached the steps of the descent, a voice halted me. "Hilda!" I froze. Frau Müller was standing above me with her hands on her hips. "When will you pay the rent?" You see, I only need one more day, I said. "Please." You said it last week, you said it, she said. My mother is very sick, I said to myself. She rolled her eyes. "That's not my problem. Tomorrow, or you leave." I sat at the bed and hid my face in my hands in my room. “I cannot do this any longer,” I said to myself, then I shook my head very fast. "No. I have to." It later rained intensely at night, and again I walked my way home from the hospital. My phone buzzed. Excellent medical bill outstanding. “I know,” I said to myself angrily, and thrust it back into my pocket. That was when I heard it. A loud screech. Someone shouted, "Watch out!" I happened to look up in time to observe a vehicle run out of control. "No!" I cried. The impact rocked the street as glass broke on the car as it hit a lamp post. People screamed. "Call an ambulance!" "Oh my God!" I remained standing a moment, my heart racing. Then I ran. Straight into the storm.