Deprivation

Once again, I label this story with a TRIGGER WARNING (TW). Please be aware that most of my content contains topics that can be difficult for some. This story may contain swearing, topics of crime, etc. If you may be triggered, please don't read this story!

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“Listen, Avery, I just can’t afford to keep you on the paycheck right now. We’re in a tough spot, financially, and I’m afraid I’ll have to let you go,” Robert said, twisting his lips sadly, his blue eyes flickering to see my reaction.

Keeping myself composed, I graciously thanked him for the opportunity and walked out, keeping my head high and swallowing the bite of pain.

I had been released from yet another job. Of course! This was a small town. In Maine. What did I expect? There weren’t many job opportunities in Maine, as it was. Especially since I had an English degree, there weren't many jobs, unlike having a medical degree.

It was like fate had decided to pick apart every single good thing in my life.

When I was ten years old and lived in Chicago, my father - who wasn’t yet in jail - had gotten himself caught up in gang business.

Which meant that I saw a lot of shit that went down.

For example, when one of my father’s gang’s buddies pulled a knife on my six year old sister and newborn brother. Or, when one of them placed an apple on the top of my head and proceeded to tie me to a chair, only to shoot the apple off of my head. It was merely an experiment…in his words.

My mother was too busy working two jobs. She’d work as a nurse at Haiward Hospital, and on her free days, she’d work at the local bar.

She was a woman of free spirit, entrapped in this life with my bastard father. She had stayed with him through everything, and when I asked her why, she’d always smile at me. The type of smile adults usually wore when children didn’t know a thing about life.

“Because, my sunshine, when you love someone, you don’t stop overnight, no matter how many wrongs were committed by them,” she’d say.

And I would simply look at her curiously, not understanding what she meant.

It was only until later that I’d understand.

However, the last thread for my mother had been when my father, high on Meth, had tried to drown me in our neighbor’s pool.

He’d almost succeeded, for I was unconscious when the paramedics had arrived, and my heart had even stopped for a few seconds in the ambulance.

My mother packed and took my siblings and I to Maine.

I had developed severe paranoia of oceans, lakes, pools, and basically any bodies of water in which one could swim in.

I had tried for years to get over my fear, but it never worked.

When I was sixteen, another tragedy hit. My sister was diagnosed with Lymphoma, and three years later, she was dead.

To us, it was a mystery. How could she have died after three years of diagnosis?

By that time, I was nineteen years old and was attending college, majoring in English. In the meantime, my mother received a job opportunity in Boston, and by then, I was old enough to care for my brother.

When she left to work there, we’d all promised to stay in contact, but it never happened.

We wrote to her, called her, reached out to her, but she never responded.

It was Michael who stopped me from reaching out, and told me “good riddance.”

But now, news was spreading in our small town in Maine. There was a new club in town.

And as stupid of me it was, maybe I could try to find a job with them.

***

You have got to be kidding me, I thought to myself as I exited the "club."

Instead of it being a normal club where people went to dance, dry-hump strangers, drink, and get wasted, this was a biker club. A freaking MC.

I didn't know the first thing about bikes or motorcycles, but I did know that they were outlawed, and many people not only frowned upon them, but criticized them with every fiber in their damn being.

Personally, I didn't care how people lived. They chose that life? If it made them happy, then good for them.

But I was in desperate need of a job, because I needed to somehow fund my brother's college tuition.

Pulling out my phone, I scrolled through my contacts and found who I was looking for.

"This is Sergei & Family Inc., how may I be of assistance?" was what she first said.

"Alex," I started. "I need your help."

I heard her sigh on the other end of the line, before she voiced her thoughts. "What the hell did you do now? You better not have crashed Joe's car like you threatened to, because I honestly don't know if I have the ability to fit you into my schedule. God, Avery, you should see the amount of work I have. I'm completely booked and it's-"

I groaned, interrupting her. Alex tended to rant when she was stressed...which was quite often.

"Sorry," she said, sounding out-of-breath. "You were saying?"

I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth. "I need a job, Alex, and I need it now."

Alex was silent for a moment, then said, "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you," I breathed, hoping she could find something.

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered. "Off you go. Make sure Michael completes his studies. Wouldn't want him to fail this semester like he did last," she teased.

I tensed. No matter how close Alex was to me, even she didn't have the right to speak about Michael that way.

Yes, Michael had failed his previous semester when studying to become a nurse practitioner, but that didn't mean he was slacking off. At the time, he was working a job and trying to balance his schoolwork. Even though Alex knew all of that, it didn't stop her from teasing him, and it irritated Michael and I.

"Goodbye, Alex. Thank you for your help, again," I said, hanging up on her.