Dan woke up before the alarm. He pushed himself into a sitting position, rustled his hair, and yawned. Stretching, he felt surprisingly alert despite only a few hours of sleep. He glanced out the window. Rain tapped against the glass, a relentless rhythm echoing through the room. He looked away, swung his legs over the bed, and got up.
In the bathroom, he turned on the faucet, cupped the water, and splashed it on his face. The icy shock made him shiver. He dried off with a towel and stepped out.
Downstairs, he scratched the back of his head. "What's for breakfast?" he asked.
"Bacon and eggs," his mother replied, setting the plates on the table.
Dan sat down. "Did you sleep well?" she asked.
"Yes," he said, draping the towel over the chair back.
He thought about telling her about the texts he had received, but he didn't want to stress her. So he stayed silent.
After finishing, he grabbed his plate and carried it to the kitchen.
"You're done already?" his mother asked.
"Yes, Mom. I need to go to work now." He turned to face her.
"You have a part-time job?" She sounded surprised. "When did you get a job? Why didn't I know?"
"Yesterday, on my way home…"
"What kind of work?" she asked, confused.
"A cashier at the convenience store near school."
She sighed, unsure if she was relieved or annoyed.
"Don't worry, Mom. I can handle it. I'm old enough," he said with a small smile.
---
"You're late…" The store owner's voice carried a hint of irritation.
"Sorry, sir," Dan said, bowing slightly. His hair and clothes were wet, a bag slung over his shoulder.
The owner sighed. "Go to the employees' area and change."
Dan nodded and hurried. He emerged wearing the owner's spare clothes. "Thank you, sir."
The owner just nodded. "I'm leaving now. Take care of the store. If you need prices, there's a notebook in the drawer. Got it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. And don't do anything stupid."
Alone now, Dan grabbed the notebook and read the prices.
A lady entered, smiling. "Welcome, ma'am," he said politely as she picked up some items. Another man entered, ignoring him entirely, heading straight for the fridge.
"You're new here?" the lady asked at the counter.
"Yes, ma'am," he smiled and calculated the total. "That'll be $345.28."
She paid, and he handed her the change. She smiled and left.
The man put down a bottle of alcohol and a box of cigarettes. "$108," Dan said. The man, likely drunk, muttered something about hiring a kid but didn't wait for a response. He grabbed the bag and left.
Dan shook off the thoughts and returned to his notes. A few minutes later, the same man returned, placing a pack of condoms on the counter. Dan froze, briefly surprised, but continued working as the man paid and left.
---
By the time the owner returned, Dan's last customer had left.
"Welcome back, sir," Dan said.
"Go home," Mr. Brice replied.
"Thank you, sir. I'll bring your clothes back dry-cleaned."
Mr. Brice waved him off. "They're yours now."
Dan bowed, grabbed his bag, and left. "Kid, your next shift is 6 PM," the owner called after him.
"Okay," he muttered, running through the rain.
He noticed a sign out of the corner of his eye and ran toward it, entering a small restaurant.
"Excuse me," he said, brushing back his wet hair.
An older woman approached. "Can I help you?"
"Are you hiring?"
"Yes, it's still available." She smiled.
"Can I start working?"
She nodded, gesturing toward the counter. Dan grabbed a tray and began serving. "Table number eight," the chef called.
"Got it," he replied, placing the dishes carefully.
After delivering the orders, he returned to the counter, collected another tray, and served the next table.
"You did great, young man," Ms. Kate said, patting his back.
"Just doing my job, Ms. Kate."
She handed him some money. "For your transport—it's still raining. You'll need it."
Dan's eyes widened. "T-Thank you, Ms. Kate."
She smiled and went back to the kitchen, giving the chef money as well. Dan shook his head in disbelief. Both Mr. Brice and Ms. Kate were unexpectedly kind. He returned to cleaning, a small smile on his face.
---
Dan returned home, soaked and shivering. But the sight that greeted him froze his blood. The door hung wide open. Shoe prints marked the dirty floor. He ran inside, calling out, "Mom?"
The kitchen was bare, the fridge gone. The living room was empty, the TV missing. Panic clawed at his chest. He dashed upstairs. Every room was ransacked. His mother was nowhere to be found.
Hands trembling, he pulled out his phone. He dialed her number. "Please… pick up…" His voice shook as he pressed the keys.
Ringing. No answer.
He dialed again. And again. Still, only ringing.
His chest tightened. Heart pounding, he slammed the phone against his palm. Cold dread settled in as he realized the reality—something was terribly wrong but his trembling fingers hit redial anyway.
"𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒… 𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝑢𝑝…" His voice cracked.
But the call was never answered.