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Jayda's life was never meant to be easy. Raised in the shadows of a city that never sleeps, she spends her days working tirelessly to care for her younger sister, Mya, while her mother drowns in a bottle of vodka. The weight of their broken world rests on her shoulders, and with every passing day, Jayda fights to survive - but survival isn't enough. As she hustles through life, Jayda dreams of something more. But with each broken promise and shattered hope, she begins to question whether she's strong enough to break free from the chains of poverty, addiction, and heartache. In a world that feels determined to crush her, Jayda must find the strength to rise above it all - for Mya, for herself, and for a future she's not sure she deserves. Can she escape the cycle of pain, or will the glass ceilings of her past keep her trapped forever?
Chapter 1 The Sound of Nothing
Jayda woke to silence.
Not peace - just the kind of silence that made your ears ring. The kind that let you know something was wrong before your feet even touched the floor.
It was still dark outside, but her eyes adjusted fast. Years of living in this apartment had taught her how to move without waking ghosts - or her little sister, Mya, who slept curled in a blanket beside her, breathing soft and fast like a scared kitten.
Jayda slipped out of bed and pulled on her hoodie. The same one she wore yesterday. And the day before that.
She stepped into the hallway, careful not to step on the one floorboard that always cried.
The living room smelled like stale smoke and cheap liquor.
Her mother was on the couch - face down, bottle on the floor, the TV still glowing with an old gospel station playing faintly, like someone left hope on by accident.
Jayda stood there for a long time, just watching her. Not out of worry. She knew her mom was alive - she could hear the low, guttural snore. It was something else. A feeling. A memory. The ache of wanting a mother and only getting this.
She turned away, quietly. The fridge, when opened, held nothing but half a lemon, a ketchup packet, and a container of rice from three nights ago. Jayda closed it again. She wasn't hungry anyway. Not for food.
She looked at the clock: 5:42 AM.
In less than an hour, she'd be walking to the diner to pour coffee for people who never asked her name. They'd smile and tip her a dollar or two, and she'd pretend it made her feel seen. After her shift, she'd pick up Mya from the neighbor's house, try to help with homework, and count change to see what kind of dinner they could fake.
This was her life. Not dramatic. Just heavy.
Every day, Jayda carried a world no one else could see.
A mother who never looked her in the eye.
A sister who looked at her like God.
A future that looked like fog.
She went to the bathroom and stared at her reflection. Not because she cared how she looked, but because she needed to see that she still existed. That she hadn't disappeared beneath the weight of everything she had to be.
She whispered something to herself. A prayer. A promise. A plea.
She wasn't even sure anymore.
But she tied her hoodie tighter, stuffed her phone and the last $12 into her pocket, and stepped outside into the chill.
The city greeted her like it always did - hard and wide and loud.
And she walked into it like she always did - tired, quiet, and unbreakable.
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