Hidden Embers (l***q)

Desmond's POV I have always despised Mondays due to the excessive workload that comes with it. Who enjoys rushing to the bus station on a bitterly cold morning? Mondays during winter are especially dreadful for me. I rolled over in bed, reaching the other side just in time to silence my alarm before it could even ring. It's a strange talent of mine to wake up a few minutes before the alarm goes off, allowing me to turn it off beforehand. However, that doesn't stop me from setting my 5am alarm. It has become part of my morning ritual, and breaking such habits is incredibly challenging. The first thing I do upon waking up is scroll through my playlist and select a song to repeat for 30 minutes. Within that half-hour, I indulge in dozing off and waking up again. It's my way of squeezing in some extra sleep before starting my day. Today, I chose Michael Bublé's "Feeling Good." After dozing off and singing along with Michael, I turned off my alarm once again before the designated 30 minutes had passed. By 5:30, my morning officially kicked off. My mother always insisted on making the bed properly before stepping out of the room, so I followed her advice. I neatly arranged the bedsheets and folded the duvet. Then, I headed into the bathroom, grabbed my toothbrush, and faced the mirror. However, a surge of anxiety washed over me, prompting me to shut my eyes and suppress the gnawing feeling. Today marked my first day as a volunteer counselor at Danville Prestigious Academy. Normally, this would be a cause for celebration and joy, but I couldn't muster up those emotions. My high school and college experiences were far from pleasant. Whether it was being ridiculed for my skinny frame, my soft-spoken voice, or my obsession with octopuses, I always seemed to draw unwanted attention. But why wouldn't anyone appreciate the fascinating world of octopuses? They are incredibly intelligent creatures, and their ability to camouflage is simply extraordinary! Unfortunately, it seems that I was the only one in my circle who shared this fascination, which led to a lot of trouble since I couldn't seem to stop talking about them. I opened my eyes, avoiding the mirror as I didn't want to confront the fear and anxiety present in my brown eyes. After spitting out the toothpaste, I stepped into the shower. "Desmond! Come downstairs and help me finish the meal!" It was my mother barging into my room, her voice echoing with urgency. She always disregarded my need for privacy, even though I'm a 25-year-old man. I had forgotten to lock my door after crashing from exhaustion the previous night, courtesy of my volunteer work at an art school. Since graduating college two years ago, I've struggled to secure a permanent job. My dream of becoming a renowned psychologist, which I pursued through my major in psychology, crumbled without warning. Living with my mother isn't ideal. Our three-bedroom bungalow is already bursting at the seams with my sister's kids following her messy divorce. They arrived unexpectedly, occupying my sister's former room-the very room she grew up in. I even helped my father build bunk beds for the two sets of twins: four-year-old girls and two-year-old girls. It's been almost six months since they moved in, and it seems they have no intention of leaving any time soon. Although Sarah, my sister, promised our parents she would move out once she got her life in order, we all know that's not going to happen anytime soon. She dropped out of high school at fifteen and ran off with her now ex-husband while pregnant with her first set of twins. She's currently twenty-one and doesn't possess a high school diploma. She works multiple odd jobs, such as being a waitress, dishwasher, and cashier in a supermarket. Although she ran away due to truancy during her teenage years, my parents still welcomed her back with open arms. What choice did they have? Reject her when she had four children in need of care? With her busy schedule juggling jobs and studying for her GED, she doesn't have much time for her kids. That responsibility fell on my mother, who adores them and has taken on the task of looking after them. "Give me a few more minutes, I'm almost done," I shouted from the bathroom. My father owns a carpentry workshop about three miles from home, and my mother always ensures she prepares his meals before he leaves in the morning. As a nail technician, she heads to her salon around 11 am. Now with the addition of the grandchildren, she drives them to her salon and back. The kids are too young for school, so I also help in homeschooling them. Hastily finishing my shower, I opted for a blue sweater, brown trousers, and neatly combed hair. The anxiety and fear that once plagued my eyes were no longer present. I was determined to stay positive as this role was a significant step toward achieving my goal of becoming a psychologist. I packed some novels by John Grisham from my bookshelf into my knapsack. I'm unsure if any students will require my expertise, but I wanted to be prepared for long hours of not talking to anyone. What am I supposed to do from 8 am to 4 pm? "Have you seen Mr. Beckham yet?" my mother asked as I prepared my father's breakfast and lunch boxes. Mr. Beckham is the husband of one of my mother's clients. She informed her about my situation after struggling to find a job post-graduation, and she promised to help by speaking to her husband, who happened to be one of the founders of Danville Prestigious Academy-an esteemed private school in town. To his credit, I secured the position, albeit as a volunteer, with the possibility of a permanent role after a six-month evaluation. "I have an appointment with his secretary after work today, I should be able to meet with him" I replied. I planned to visit Mr. Beckham's office at Beckham Lawsuits. In addition to being a founder of Danville, he is also a renowned lawyer. "Alright, I've packed some fruits for him, and extend my appreciation to him," she said. My father volunteered to drop me off at the academy, saving me from my usual morning rush to the bus station. And so, my first day as a school counselor at Danville Prestigious Academy began.