Chapter 2 - The Reason

Margot's POV

The sun hung low in the sky, bleeding deep shades of orange and red across the horizon as Cara and I trudged through the last stretch of the dirt road leading into the trailer park.

The air had thickened with the coming night, heavy with the scent of dry grass and cigarette smoke drifting from a few trailers down.

We stopped where the road forked — Cara's place to the left, mine to the right.

"Well," she said, exhaling as she turned to me. "Another thrilling day back here in paradise."

I forced a weak smile, shifting my weight between my feet. We always lingered here longer than necessary, neither of us wanting to part ways. Especially me.

Cara's home life wasn't ideal either, but at least her Mom tried on a good day when she wasn't shooting up... or should I say, couldn't afford to shoot up?

Cara hated seeing her Mom high, but had grown used to the sight over the years. But despite the fact, she had often reminded me that she wasn't all bad, since despite her Mom wasting away - she would never hit or yell at her...

At times I was jealous, considering that we both had it bad, but hers seemed that little bit more bearable compared to my own situation.

At least Cara had someone who deep down, actually cared for her behind the shell of her addiction, unlike someone who would greet her at the door with whiskey-soaked breath and a clenched fist most days out of the week...

"Try not to overthink things tonight," Cara nudged me lightly, her voice softer now, like she knew exactly where my head was going. "We did the right thing, Margot. We won't be stuck here forever - at least we are trying to get out, right?"

I nodded, but my stomach twisted itself up into knots.

I wasn't even thinking about the experiment right now. I was thinking about the rusted trailer that was waiting for me, the man inside it, and whether he'd be passed out or looking for something to hit.

"Yeah," I muttered. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

Cara gave me a knowing look. "You will, unless I wake up rich and famous overnight and I'm outta here by sunrise."

I forced a laugh, watching as she turned on her heel and disappeared toward her trailer, her silhouette swallowed by the dimming light. "You know I'd never leave you behind though right? You're my girl!" She called back over her shoulder, as I watched her disappear further and further down the road.

The moment she was gone, the weight of reality settled down on my shoulders like an asteroid sent to crush the earth.

I inhaled deeply, forcing my feet to move despite my brain screaming not to.

The path crunched beneath my worn in sneakers, the sound too loud in the eerie quiet of the trailer park as I feared waking everyone up in the desolate space.

Most people had already retreated inside for the night, the glow of muted televisions flickering behind thin curtains from those who had them. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. A baby cried. A man yelled.

It was all too familiar, too 'normal' that I hated it even more...

Then I eventually saw it — our trailer.

It slumped against the fading sky like a forgotten relic, the paint peeling, the metal rusting. A crushed beer can lay near the front steps, the first sign that my father was already home.

The second sign was the faint glow of the television leaking through the window, illuminating the living room in a sickly, blue hue.

I hesitated at the door on my approach, listening in for a moment.

Silence.

Not good.

Silence meant he was either passed out or waiting...

Bracing myself, I slowly pushed the door open, the hinges groaning in protest and revealing my position.

The stench hit me first — sour alcohol, stale sweat, and something burnt.

I stepped inside, careful to keep my footsteps light.

The living room was a mess, but that was nothing new. Empty bottles cluttered around on the floor, an overflowing ashtray sat on the coffee table, and the TV buzzed on a static-filled channel.

Then I saw him.

My father sat slumped in his recliner, his beer-stained tank top stretched over his gut, one hand gripping a half-empty bottle, the other hanging loosely over the armrest. His eyes were closed, mouth slightly open.

Asleep.

Relief flooded me so fast that my knees almost buckled.

I moved quickly, heading toward my room at the far end of the trailer, careful to avoid the creaky floorboards on my way.

If I could just make it inside, lock the door, maybe tonight wouldn't end in more bruises to add to my growing collection...

But as I reached for the handle, his voice cut through the air, thick and slurred.

"Where the hell you been, girl?"

My stomach clenched and heaved at the tone.

I turned slowly, my fingers still curled around the doorknob. He was blinking up at me now, his face contorted in a drunken haze.

"Library with Cara," I said carefully.

He scoffed at me, spit flying out, before dragging a hand down his face before taking another swig from the bottle. "Library," he mimicked in a squeaky voice, shaking his head. "Like that's gonna do you any good in this damn town - reading shit fucking stories."

I said nothing. That was always the safest option.

He shifted in his chair, narrowing his bloodshot eyes at me. "You sneakin' around in here now, girl? You think I don't notice when you come home late? When you creep by me without sayin' a word?"

My pulse pounded in my ears. I knew this game. He was looking for something to fight about, some excuse to remind me who was in charge. Even when I stood here in total silence...

I forced my voice to stay even. "I told you. I was just out at the library."

He let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah? And what exactly are you learnin' there? How to be a goddamn disappointment?"

My jaw locked, my fingers gripping the doorknob tighter. I bit my tongue, swallowing back the words I wanted to spit back at him, knowing they would only make things far worse.

He watched me for a moment longer, as if daring me to push back. Then, just as quickly as the anger flared, it died out. He grunted and waved a dismissive hand.

"Get the hell outta my sight, I don't have the energy to teach you another lesson tonight!" he sneered, turning back to the TV and hitting the remote around until something watchable showed up.

I didn't wait for him to change his mind.

I slipped into my room, shutting the door behind me as quietly as I could before locking it. My hands shook as I pressed my forehead against the wood, exhaling a breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding in.

Safe.

At least for now.

For another night.

I turned and took in the familiar sight of my tiny room— the bare walls, a lumpy mattress on the floor, a small desk covered in old notebooks and pens that barely worked.

The one place in this entire world that was mine.

Collapsing down onto my bed, I stared at the cracked ceiling, my mind flooding.

This place was a reminder that the whole prison idea wasn't all that bad... it would be an upgrade to this tramp den!

One week.

That's all I needed to wait to find out if the applications had gotten us anywhere.

One more week, and maybe — just maybe — I'd finally have a way out of this trap.

Whatever the cost, so be it, if it means I can get away from him!