I awoke from hunger the next morning.

Dazed and confused, I sat up from the bed, blankets falling away. As I scanned the room, I believed for a brief moment that I was at home, in the extended room across from their bedroom. It was easy to think something like that when every room is a carbon copy of another.

I remembered my place, however, as I looked at the date on my watch: March 4th, Friday.

According to my schedule, I did not have work today. Jake must have, as I noticed the space where he had been. Whether he had refrained from waking me due to not wanting to talk to me, or out of kindness, I gratefully sighed. I was anything but a morning person.

I just sat like that for a while, staring at the blank closet door, slumping over, just thinking. Was it always this hard for people to get up in the morning? I would never understand how people could feel so awake after mere minutes. Nevertheless, as I had to face my reality eventually, I also had to face getting up.

When I finally coaxed myself to get up, I dressed in clothes that had already been transported into the apartment. I wasn't ready to call it my apartment quite yet. Trying to ignore his clothes which hung beside mine, I chose a white buttoned shirt, jeans, and a synthetic wool sweater. After inspecting my satchel which had also been stored in the closet, I was relieved to find the contents still remaining.

Making my way to the kitchen for something to eat, I was surprised to see a plate of toast resting on the counter, beside it, was a note. Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I walked over. Reading the letter, I took a bite out of the now cold, slightly burnt toast.

I'm sorry we got off to a bad start. I had to go to work early – sorry it's a bit burnt :)

The genuine words hurt. A small part of me had hoped he wouldn't be like this. Hoped that he would be cold, mean, and not even care about me. Because maybe then it would be easier to accept that he couldn't be mine.

After finishing the toast, I placed the plate into the sink, giving it a quick rinse before resting it on the drying rack. Searching around for a bit, I found the glasses on one of the high-up shelves. It was in the same place as every other apartment, yet I must've searched every other cupboard before it.

I hoped that this day would be better.

About an hour later, I was on the train, reading the news on my smartwatch. Specifically, the first and second-hand offence section. I had a habit of checking it, reading the names to check to see if there was one I recognized.

I closed the page as the train came to a slow stop. A soothing female voice announced that the train had arrived at the outer city stop. Stepping onto the platform, my nose was stung with rotting fruit. I furrowed my brow, the rush of wind on my back as the train glided away.

Nobody had gotten off at this stop. I hadn't really expected them to, after all, it was the city outskirts, and it was miserable. The sign which usually blinked the time until the next train arrived was cracked, the red light faded, and the hour number stuck constantly on two. It had been this way for a few years now at least, I even doubted that anybody knew of it.

The cement platform had to be at least a hundred years old, with cracks almost everywhere you step. Advertisements for out-of-date technology still played through the speakers on loop. Plastic wrappers were scattered around the area like autumn leaves.

I walked through squeaky gates, smelling urine and fecal matter a few feet from where I was. I avoided it and turned into the Lower city region.

Here, the Lowers lived. Thrown out and expected to find somewhere to inhabit. They slept in the shells of broken buildings, eaten food scraps, and tried to stay silent as the sewage pipes leaked onto them as they slept.

Wrappers crinkled under my feet, a girl screamed a few buildings over. It was dangerous for most people to be here, and usually, only the guards would come. But for the past 5 years, it had become the norm for me. The dark, dingy place, had become an escape.

I turned a corner, spotting a blue powder on the ground, which was likely some sort of drug. Charlie had told me that recently there was a new craze with Vextine, a drug that made pain feel like pleasure. But that was only what he knew, and there were far darker things than that.

After turning another corner, I pulled back a hanging wire. It dangled in front of an entrance to an old building, and I slipped inside the doorway. Pulling my bag closer, I scrunched up my nose; the thick stench of vomit seeped from the walls. After a few seconds, I emerged into a dimly lit room, a flickering light blub precariously hung from the ceiling. A boy sat down on an old box for plastic gloves.

"It's good to see you again," he said, a warm smile broadening his face as he stood up. Under the small light, his green eyes glowed, and freckles dashed underneath like paint splats. I smiled up at him, trying to remain confident, but all the pain from yesterday was beginning to return. He must've noticed this, as his smile weakened, and he furrowed his brows, "You okay? How did assignment go?"

"It..." I trailed off as I tried to think of a way to explain it. How to explain it. I knew Charlie would make me feel better but it still hurt. I could see clearly the way he would smile at me, give me a hug and tell me that I would be the best computer technology person that he could ever meet. And it would warm my heart just a bit more, "I got-"

"-oh em gee!" Lillian cut me off as she burst through another doorway. She threw her helmet to the ground and ran up to me, practically throwing herself around me. I winced as the hard metal and plastic armor slammed into my body, but I smiled at her excitement. She stood back, a grin bigger than ever, "How was it? No- how was he? You need to tell me everything!"

"It..." I trailed off again. I could feel that lump in my throat. Why did I have to get upset here of all places? As they both stared at me with the warmest smiles on their faces, I felt even worse. I was being ungrateful, all that these wonderful people wanted was for me to be happy and I couldn't even give them that, "it was awful..."

"Oh, Rebecca..." Charlie said, sadness filling his eyes like a faucet as he pulled me towards to him. I closed my eyes, my lip trembling, as I began to sob. I didn't want to cry in front of them. Especially after something so stupid. I felt like a child being protected by a big brother, as his arms wrapped around me, he caressed the back of my hair, "Shh... it's okay... whoever and whatever you got should be more than happy to have been assigned such an incredible girl..."

How does he do it? How does he know exactly what to say to me? It hurt, it shouldn't hurt. His kind words should fill me with warmth, not this dark and bitter feeling growing inside of me. In his arms, he held me there as my tears trailed down his chest plate.

After a few more minutes, I stood back, taking a deep breath and wiping my eyes. Red rose to my cheeks as shame coursed through my body. Looking at them side by side, with the same weariful expression on their face, I gave a small smile.

With freckles dappled across their face, smiles so kind, and eyes so bright, they stared at me with love and sympathy. Next to Charlie, Lillian looked so young. Her face was pale and narrow, her knotty hair trailing down her back. I remembered my bag, throwing it to the floor.

"I um, I have something for you Lil," I said, digging around in the bag. I didn't want them to look at me like that again, with sympathy. They should never have to feel sorry for me, after all, I was upper-class. I was the privileged one. What right did I have to feel sad when they suffered in a place like this?

"Oh, Bex!" Lillian exclaimed, almost squealing with excitement, as I pulled out the hairbrush from my bag. It wasn't an ordinary hairbrush either. It looked pretty fancy, with imitation jewels embedded into the silver-colored handle. She took it from me, cautiously, as if it were glass.

"You want me to brush your hair for you?" I asked, keeping my voice as stable as possible. She nodded, a grin on her face and her eyes gleaming. She bounded over to the corner of the room, where a moldy blanket sat on the ground in front of a broken mirror.

She sat down without a sound, besides the metal and plastic armor clunking together awkwardly. She crossed her legs, staring into the shards of the mirror with the biggest grin. I wondered how long it had been since she has last brushed her hair. A year maybe? I walked over and sat down behind her.

"If it's too difficult to tell us, you don't have to..." Charlie said, sitting on a broken chair nearby which had been stabilized with piping. I began to brush Lillian's hair, being as careful as I could as to not hurt her. Every so often, I would catch a knot and see her flinch, but she would remain silent, giddy with excitement.

"No it's okay," I said, as I continued the repetitive movement of brushing her hair.

And so I told them both, however much that lump in my throat hurt I forced myself to remain calm. Every so often, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

I looked tired, bags under my eyes, and as I brushed her hair, I realized how much I was beginning to look like my mother. I recalled when she used to brush my hair like this, as I sat in a mirror and watched the way she got through the trickiest knots. Then, braid my hair and exclaim, 'Rebecca Aria, what will I ever do with you?'

Sometimes, she would tell me stories. Stories of matching day, how she and my father hated each other at first. As I brushed Lillian's hair, I wondered if I was going to be like that. If I was ever going to love Jake as much as my parents loved each other. But I wasn't sure if I even wanted to.

When I finished brushing her hair, I began to braid it. Charlie and Lillian had told me about how I would be so amazing with computers, and that I would definitely get to see the courtyard flowers again. They always filled me with hope, asking me to describe the flowers again and the scent of lavender and roses. By the time Lillian had a red braid trailing down her back, I was calm, warm, and peaceful.

"Thank you both so much," I said, standing up as I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder. Lillian was running her hands over her braid, and how neat it must feel after so long of being knotty. I promised her next time that I would teach her how to braid her hair herself.

"Hey Bex, you know we love you," Charlie said, giving me one last hug. I smiled up at him and nodded. I always felt better after being around them. I gave Lillian the tightest hug too, and as he whispered into my ear.

"Whatever happens, you'll always be a princess," she said, before standing back. I looked at her, overwhelmed with gratitude. She didn't deserve to be in this place, didn't deserve to be in such a horrible situation. And I would do everything for them.

I left the Lower City Region, making my way towards the train station, and I realized that it wasn't all so bad. I may not have a lover, I may not have a good job. But I had them.

And I couldn't ask for anything more than that.