I finish with packing later at night and I'm exhausted. Even though I don't have a lot of things, I had a lot of work with cleaning the whole flat. I really don't want to leave a bad impression when I leave, so I cleaned every spot that I found. I have my suitcases all packed and ready by the bed so I can take them in the morning and leave. 

I look around the flat for the last time. I feel tears welling up in my eyes, even though I cried for the whole day and my face is all bloated, but I couldn't help myself. I didn't appreciate this flat enough and I'm only realising this now.

I go to the bathroom to shower for the last time and freshen up. From tomorrow on, the life will be different for me. And I'm really scared.

I step into the lukewarm water and quickly shower because I didn't have hot water because of unpaid bills which are still laying on the kitchen counters and reminding me how low I fell.

When I step out of the shower, I wrap a towel around myself and stare at myself in the mirror. I almost don't recognise myself anymore.

My long black hair is up in a bun so it didn't bother me when I was cleaning, my face is sunken, my eyes empty and puffy, my nose is red from all the tears and cold and my lips look even fuller than normal because of all the biting I did on them. My cheeks aren't the same as they were, I had full cheeks that were very prominent when I smiled and they looked even fuller. I don't smile that much anymore and my cheeks aren't full anymore, either.

My body changed, too. I had a nice body, especially because of occasional working out and healthy diet, but now, I can count my ribs and my breasts are smaller, too. The clothes who were once hugging my body and curves perfectly are now baggy on me.

The longer I look at myself in the mirror, the more I started hating myself. How could I let the things come this far? Where is that girl hiding, the one who was ready to fight?

I'm momentarily engrossed by fear. I managed every day to not think about what's going to happen with me now and where am I going to go. I didn't let myself think about it. But right now, I'm on the verge of desperation. I'm so scared. I'm scared that I'm not the same girl who always stood up when she fell and fought further. I don't want to give up on myself. But what else can I do? I don't have anyone to go to. My family lives somewhere else and, hell, I don't have money even for the food, even less for a plane ticket!

I couldn't look at myself any longer. I turn away from the mirror, turn the light off and go back to the bedroom where I searched my suitcase for something warm and comfortable to sleep in.

I turn the light off in the bedroom, too, and go to bed. I wrap myself in the blanket and let the tears wet my face for the last time today.

The morning comes way too fast. I know it's still very early because it was barely even light outside, but I can't sleep anymore. Despite the tiredness I feel, I couldn't sleep at night. I was afraid that this is that kind of tired that sleep can't fix. I had nightmares the whole night and I often woke up in tears and screaming or just completely shaken up. I was afraid to open my eyes in the morning and remember that I have to go on the streets.

I feel the tears in my eyes again, but I don't let them fall down my face because I'm tired of crying already and feeling sorry for myself. I'll take my things and go on the cold street. I don't have anything left, anyway. 

I get up from the bed. I don't even bother changing my red and black sweater and black jeans, for which I think are warm enough to help me with the cold.

I put on my black boots and put on my thick jacket before I grab my suitcases and go out on the cold street.

As soon as I stepped out in snow-covered London, I feel the cold all the way to my bones. Thank Heavens it stopped snowing. 

With my suitcases in my hands, I start walking without having a destination in my mind. I just walk, completely numb from the cold.

I ignore the looks from the people that are passing by and I pretend that I don't see how they look at me - with pity in their eyes.

For some time, I just walk on the streets, full of people, past the shops where there are all those beautiful clothes displayed that I don't have money for to ever wear them, past prestige restaurants and then past some dull flat complexes and normal houses. Even though the streets are snow-covered, there are a lot of people out.

My legs are starting to hurt and my stomach is completely empty. And then I think I see the Heaven when I spot an abandoned building. It's more on the outside of the city, standing in a lonely place.

I go to the what used to be a door and is now just hanging from the hinges, but I don't dare to enter because the building looks really old. I put my suitcases down and sit on them. My legs are really hurt, as are my arms from carrying those suitcases. I don't even know where I'm walking. I wasn't looking because I didn't have any plan to come back, anyway.

It has to be afternoon already because the sky is getting darker by every minute that passes and it started snowing again. I sigh and try to warm up my hands by rubbing them together.

I realise that apart from a roof over my head, I really need to get a job now. I search my suitcases for my notebook to see what I wrote in it when I was going through advertisements. 

I don't have a phone so I have to carefully choose who I'm going to call. 

After going through each of the adverts, selecting out which are the most suitable for me since I don't have an education or the required knowledge, I end up with only two adverts. A waitress or a maid? I decide to call both. Right at this moment.

I'm ready to do anything to make some money. 

I jump on my toes, grab my suitcases and search for a phone. It doesn't take that long since telephone boots are very popular in London. When I'm typing the number, I squeeze my hands into fists and pray that I get it. 

There are three rings before I hear a high female voice on the other side. "Restaurant Ancora, good day. What can I help you with?" 

I take a deep breath and close my eyes. Please please please. "Hello. I'm calling because of the advertisement I saw in a newspaper. It said that you're looking for a waitress?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am. The spot is already filled."

"Oh. Alright, then. Thank you for your help. Have a good day."

"You too."

I hear a beeping sound that indicates the line is disconnected. I take a few deep breaths to get myself together. This is what I was most afraid of. 

With the last few pennies I find in my pocket, I call another number. Please, God, take mercy on me this time. 

I wait for some time before I hear a woman's voice again, but this time is more powerful and collected. "Hello?"

"Uhm, hello. I'm calling because of the advert I found in the newspaper. For the housekeeper?" My heart starts beating harder by every passing second and I hope that my nervousness can't be heard in my voice. I don't want to come out as unprofessional through the phone already.

"Housekeeper? Oh! Yes, of course, just a moment," I hear the same woman's voice that makes me even more nervous.

I hear fizz on the other side, followed by a screaming so loud that I have to put the receiver away from my ear. I don't understand a word that was shouted.

For a moment, there is a complete silence and I get afraid that the line went dead, but then I hear someone speak, "The house of Mr and Mrs Welch, how may I help you?" This voice is a different one - slightly short of breath, but way nicer from the previous one and I instantly stop shaking. 

"Uhm, hello, Cassandra Duarte here. I'm calling for the job position of housekeeper ... uhm, I found it in the newspaper?" I think the poor woman found me a nervous mess and very unprofessional, that's why I get afraid she's going to turn me down because of my nervous babbling. 

I never knew how to make a conversation, especially not with strangers. Even in school, I belonged to the 'good and dutiful girl' category because I spoke only when I really had to. And a lot of time, I had trouble because of that, but I always thought it's going to pass. It still hasn't. 

"Oh!" I hear.

I tightly close my eyes together because my head is starting to hurt. Does everyone in the house scream all the time? I wince at the thought. The memories take me back to where my mum used to scream at my dad if he didn't let her do something she wanted to. Then she was in a bad mood for days straight, taking it out on me and my sister, and the good father tried to correct and excuse her mistakes. I always hated that. Why did he have to be the one saying sorry if it was her mistake?

"What a luck you called, miss, we almost gave up on finding someone. You know, we terribly need someone because the previous mai- housekeeper had to leave because -"

"Less talking and more working, Dora!" I hear the same stern voice that firstly answered the phone and shivers run down my back. Was that the owner of the house? Mrs-whatever-her-last-name-is? I really don't want to meet her. I didn't like her after the first conversation - if I could even call it that - on the phone and she sent me some bad vibes.

I didn't like people treating me like trash and tried to order me around, although I almost always let them and I was quiet about it because I was too scared to say anything and I rather accepted every order from them. Sure, I would work as a housekeeper, but only for some time - enough to earn enough money for my study, and that's my motivation, I tell myself, to take the ordering around and shouting for some time. Maybe. I hope so.

"Excuse me," I hear from the speaker. There's a short pause. "Miss - I'm sorry, what did you say your name is?" the woman quietly asks, almost frighteningly.

I immediately feel bad. "Cassandra, Mrs," I reply calmly and ensure her that I'm not mad because she didn't remember my name.

After all, I didn't remember hers, either. Did she even tell me who she is? I search my mind for her name but I come up with nothing.

"God, is everyone in this house so damn stupid?" Again that mean woman's voice that I already started to hate. I hear the clicking sound then that get fainter and fainter until I can't hear it anymore. The clicking of the heels, perhaps? I hope that witch went away and left the poor woman on the phone alone.

"I'm sorry, Miss Cassandra. I'm coming into years when I start being forgetful." She carefully laughs.

I don't respond. 

"Ahem, I predict that you read the advertisement. Do you have any questions?" 

I search my mind for any questions, but I don't remember anything. "No. No, I don't."

"Great!" Please, stop screaming. "When would it be convenient for you to start working?"

Right now, please. "Uhm ... when do you want me to start?" 

"As soon as possible. You know, we really need a pair of hands -" The voice is cut off and then ...

Beep beep beep, which indicated that the line went dead.

"Shit! No!"

What the hell happened? I confusedly stare at the receiver as if it would give me an answer. And I get it. Well, not from the receiver, of course, more from my brain. I don't have any money left to talk. Of course. 

"Double shit," I curse to myself and search my pockets for some money, praying to all saints that I would find at least a penny.

I search the pockets of my jacket, but I only find tissues. In my jeans pockets, I don't even find that. 

I lean down and start searching my suitcases. I turn around everything, shaking out all clothes and turning over all shoes - I've got nothing. 

To all the new readers, I hope you're enjoying this story so far! Don't forget to vote and share the story x 

A huge thank you to ForeverIsland for creating this phenomenal cover!