Chapter 6

ROXETTE

After class, I went home to the rundown apartment my mom and I live in. I could already smell the stench of cigarettes and alcohol before I even stepped fully inside.

The smell alone was enough to make my shoulders tense.

Home sweet home.

Then I saw Dave, still in his late twenties. Mom is forty-four.

He was sitting comfortably on the couch watching football like he owned the place. When he noticed me, his eyes dragged slowly down and up my body. I was wearing mom jeans and a tight crop top, my school bag still hanging off my shoulder.

His gaze lingered a beat too long before he finally looked away, taking a long swig from his beer bottle.

“Hey there, princess. How was school?”

The familiar slur in his voice made my stomach twist. The apartment looked worse than usual. Empty cans, ash everywhere, the air heavy and stale.

I clenched my jaw and breathed deep inwardly.

Ignore him. Go to your room. Don’t give him anything.

“Your mom’s out running errands,” he added lazily. “Said she’d be back later.”

His eyes drifted to my legs as I set my bag down.

“You’re looking all grown up these days. Those clothes are getting tighter on you.”

Heat rushed up my neck not from embarrassment but from anger.

I raised an eyebrow. “Did I ask for your opinion?”

He shifted, patting the space beside him like I was a pet.

“Come keep your old man company. Tell me about your day.”

A humorless laugh slipped out of me.

“Typical. Mom’s type in men is always the same.” I tilted my head, letting my gaze sweep over the mess, the beer, him. “Trash.”

His expression hardened instantly. The fake friendliness evaporated like it had never been there.

He stood slowly, deliberate, like he wanted me to feel the shift in the air.

“Watch your mouth, girl,” he said quietly, the drunken haze replaced with something colder. “Your mom might let you talk to her boyfriends like that, but I’m not her.”

He stopped just out of arm’s reach, arms crossed.

“You think you’re too good for us? Too good for this apartment? Keep running your mouth and see how quickly that changes.”

His eyes dragged over me again, this time with pure hostility.

“Your mom works hard to keep a roof over your head while you’re off at school playing dress-up. Show some respect.”

A sharp laugh burst out of me before I could stop it.

“Oh wow. Look at him acting like a dad.” I folded my arms, meeting his stare head-on. “You don’t even know me. You don’t know anything.”

My heart was pounding, but I refused to step back.

“In fact, ask Mom about it,” I added, my voice turning sharper. “I’m the one keeping a roof over her head.”

The door opened.

Mom walked in with grocery bags, her eyes darting between us immediately, already tired, already annoyed but never worried.

“What is going on now?” she sighed.

Dave didn’t answer. He just laughed under his breath, shaking his head like I was the problem.

“Your daughter thinks she runs this house,” he said.

Mom’s gaze snapped to me, irritation flashing. “Roxette, not again. Why do you always have to start something the second you walk in?”

Of course.

Of course she’d take his side first.

I felt something cold settle in my chest.

“Start something?” I repeated. “He was making comments about my body.”

Mom waved a hand dismissively like I’d complained about the weather.

“Dave jokes like that. You’re too sensitive.”

Dave smirked.

I laughed, short and disbelieving. “Unbelievable.”

He stepped forward again, voice rising and gestured with the beer bottle.

“You think you’re so high and mighty with your fancy clothes and school friends? While you’re out playing the big shot, your mom is home cooking my dinner and warming my bed.”

Something in me snapped.

“Say that again,” I said quietly.

Mom slammed the grocery bags down. “That’s enough, both of you.”

But she turned to me first.

“Roxette, you need to stop talking to him like that. He helps me. He’s trying.”

Trying.

The word echoed in my head like a joke.

“Trying?” I let out a hollow laugh. “Mom, I pay for the electricity. Half the rent. Your debts! What exactly is he trying?”

Her face tightened instantly.

“That is not true,” she said sharply. “You help sometimes. Don’t exaggerate.”

The denial hit harder than any insult Dave had thrown.

For a second I just stared at her.

She’s really pretending. She’d rather lie than admit it.

Dave scoffed loudly. “See? Even your own mother knows you’re full of it.”

He turned to me, eyes narrowing, a smug cruelty settling over his face like he’d finally found the right weapon.

“You think you’re better than me?” he sneered. “Don’t act all innocent. I know about that little nightclub job of yours.”

My chest tightened. Of course he did. In this apartment, nothing stayed private for long.

Dave let out a low, mocking chuckle.

“Running around at night in those tight outfits, serving drinks to drunk men who can’t keep their eyes off you… What is that, huh? Sounds pretty damn close to selling yourself if you ask me.”

Mom stepped between us, tension finally cracking through her composure.

“Dave, stop.”

But her voice wavered. She was still trying to keep the peace—his peace

A familiar burn crept up my throat not from shame. Never shame. Just anger so hot it felt metallic.

He has no idea, I thought. None.

Those nights weren’t about attention or cheap thrills. They were about rent notices with my name on them. About debts I never made but still had to pay. About choosing exhaustion over watching the lights get cut off.

“Go ahead,” I said, voice steady even though my pulse was pounding. “Call it whatever makes you feel like a big man.”

I met his gaze head-on.

“At least I was working. Not sitting here getting drunk in a place I help keep standing.”

Dave leaned around mom, pointing the bottle at me.

“You want to talk about who provides? Let’s talk about it.”

Mom pressed her hand against his chest, more firmly this time.

“Dave, enough.”

Then she turned to me, eyes tired, conflicted but still defensive.

“You shouldn’t throw money in people’s faces, Roxette. This is still my house.”

The words stung more than they should have.

I swallowed, forcing my voice steady.

“I’m not throwing it in your face. I’m reminding you of reality.”

Silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

For a moment, I thought she might finally say it. Admit it.

Then she turned to me and gestured toward the hallway.

“Go pack an overnight bag. You’re staying at Diana’s tonight.”

Dave smirked like he’d won.

I snatched my bag, my chest tight with a mix of anger and hurt.

“Fine. I don’t even want to share the same air as him.”