CHAPTER 10
1382 Words
I couldn’t believe it.
As if getting fired wasn’t enough, as if being bullied and humiliated at work wasn’t enough, now this?
I stared, frozen, at the sight before me.
Our belongings—our clothes, blankets, kitchen utensils—everything we owned, were scattered outside, soaked in rain, looking like nothing but worthless trash.
And there—right in the middle of it all—was my mother and my little brother, Mico.
Drenched.
Shivering.
Hugging each other like they had nowhere else to go.
My heart clenched so hard it felt like I couldn’t breathe.
No. This can’t be happening.
I know exactly who did this.
Only one person had the audacity to throw us out like garbage.
Brigette.
That devil of a landlady.
The witch who owned this damn apartment complex.
And just as if the universe wanted to confirm my suspicions, the door of our unit creaked open, revealing her—standing there like she was the queen of the world, hands on her hips, her thick layers of makeup somehow untouched by the rain.
I felt rage boil inside me.
My blood pressure skyrocketed past Mars.
I screamed at the top of my lungs, my voice echoing through the rain.
"BRIGETTE, YOU HEARTLESS WITCH! HOW DARE YOU THROW US OUT!?"
She scoffed, flipping her wet hair over her shoulder like some kind of cheap telenovela antagonist. "Excuse me? Don’t scream at me like some uncivilized rat, Maurice. It’s your fault for not paying rent!"
My eyes twitched.
"I TOLD YOU I WOULD PAY AS SOON AS I GET MY SALARY!"
She smirked. "Oh, and do you have a salary now? No, right? Because guess what? You’re jobless. No work means no money. No money means you can’t stay here."
I lost it.
LOST. IT.
"YOU EVIL HAG!" I lunged forward, my hands itching to strangle the life out of her plastic-surgery-filled throat.
Unfortunately, the rain made everything slippery, and instead of grabbing her hair, I ended up SLIPPING FACE-FIRST into a puddle.
Great. Absolutely fantastic.
I heard Brigette laugh.
I looked up at her, seething.
"Pathetic," she sneered. "Look at you. A wet, unemployed loser. And now? Homeless. What a shame."
I sprang back up, my hands shooting straight for her cheap, synthetic wig.
And just like that—I YANKED IT OFF HER HEAD.
SUCCESS.
For a brief moment, the entire world stopped.
Brigette gasped so loudly, she probably sucked in a whole mosquito colony.
The neighbors, who had started gathering because of the commotion, stared in shock.
And me?
I held up her fake hair like a freaking trophy, breathing heavily, my chest rising and falling like I just won a championship fight.
Then—
Brigette screamed.
"MAURICE, YOU DEMON! GIVE ME BACK MY HAIR!"
And that’s how the real fight started.
Brigette charged at me, her long, pointed, fake nails aiming straight for my face.
But joke’s on her, because I ducked, causing her to trip over her own slipper and land straight on her butt.
HA!
Revenge never tasted so good.
But of course, our useless, chismosa neighbors just had to get involved.
"Hey, hey, hey! Stop it already, both of you…"
"Guys, stop fighting!"
"Maurice, let go of her extensions!"
I refused. "SHE DESERVES IT!"
Meanwhile, Mico was crying louder than a fire alarm, and Mom was desperately trying to calm him down, looking heartbroken and defeated.
And that’s when it hit me.
This wasn’t about me and Brigette anymore.
This was about them—Mom and Mico.
And no matter how much I wanted to claw Brigette’s ugly face off, fighting wasn’t going to put a roof over our heads.
So I took a deep breath.
Dropped her ugly wig on the ground.
And stood up straight, glaring at her one last time.
"You’ll regret this, Brigette."
Brigette scoffed, arms crossed over her chest like she was some queen looking down on a lowly peasant. "Oh, please. What can a jobless nobody like you even do?"
I clenched my fists so tight I thought my fingers would snap.
I didn’t know what I was going to do.
But I swore—on my wet clothes, my ruined dignity, and my stolen dinner steaks—that I WILL make her regret this day.
No matter what.
I took a deep breath and looked at my Mom. She was shivering, her arms wrapped around Mico, trying to keep him warm. My little brother, who had always been so in need of medical services, now sat there—silent and scared, eyes darting between me and Mom.
Something inside me shattered.
It was like a thousand knives stabbing straight into my chest.
How the hell did Brigette know about my situation?
How did she know I was fired?
I swallowed hard, pushing my anger down. Right now, revenge could wait—my family needed me.
I wrapped my arms around Mom and Mico, pulling them close, trying to shield them from the cold.
"Let's get out of the rain," I whispered.
Thankfully, there was an old waiting shed nearby, its roof barely holding up, but at least it was something.
We dragged our soaked belongings under the shed, stacking them up as best as we could. Mico huddled next to Mom, his small body trembling. I pulled off my jacket—even though it was already drenched—and wrapped it around him.
Mom was staring at me.
Not just staring—looking through me.
And I knew exactly what was coming.
"Is it true, Maurice?" her voice was quiet, but heavy.
I didn’t answer.
"Is it true that you’re jobless? That you’re unemployed? That you… attacked someone at MCC!?"
My stomach dropped.
My mouth opened, but no words came out.
How… how did she know that?
"Was it true, MAURICE!?"
The way she said my name—it hurt.
It wasn’t just anger.
It was disappointment.
The kind of disappointment that crushed your soul.
I looked down at my muddy shoes, unable to meet her gaze.
"I…" My voice cracked. "I didn't attack anyone, Mom. I—"
"Then why did you get fired!?"
I bit my lip.
I didn’t want to tell her.
I didn’t want to see the heartbreak in her eyes when she realized her eldest daughter—her family's only hope—was now a complete failure.
"It was just a mistake," I muttered. "Just one—well, two mistakes."
Mom let out a sharp breath, her hands gripping the wet fabric of her dress. "You promised, Maurice. You promised us that things would get better. That you were working hard for us. And now? Now you’ve lost everything?"
I wanted to say it wasn’t my fault.
I wanted to tell her about Fabian Isidore—the grumpiest, most heartless CEO in the history of mankind.
I wanted to tell her how I was bullied by my own co-workers, how I endured their insults, their mockery, how I pushed through everything just to keep my job.
But I didn’t.
Because in the end, excuses wouldn’t change the fact that I was fired.
That I was unemployed.
That we were now homeless.
And that was entirely on me.
"I'm sorry, Mom."
It was all I could say.
Mom shook her head, her eyes filled with so many emotions—anger, sadness, fear. "Sorry won’t put a roof over our heads, Maurice."
I felt sick.
Absolutely sick.
Because she was right.
We had nowhere to go.
No money.
No place to sleep.
And worst of all?
I had failed them.
I don't even know what to do. I was just stunned. I felt the wind even more colder, and the desperation kept on haunting me.
If only I didn't attacked that bully secretary. If I only endured it a little longer. Maybe things won't get this bad. Maybe… maybe there's still a roof above our heads, and a warm bed to take some nap.
I couldn't help it back. My tears fell from my eyes as a took a deep sigh and stared at my little brother.
It was like I was stabbed in my chest a million times in a second.
“Ah…” I sighed, but my tears bursted in. “If only I didn't do that stupid thing!”
- Writer
