Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The women's shelter smelled of bleach and sadness. Mona stood in line, hugging herself, still wearing her ruined dress that cost more than most people made in a month.

"Name?" The tired worker barely looked up from her computer.

"Mona... Lowes," she said, catching herself before using her real name. Emily had eyes everywhere.

"First time homeless?"

*Homeless*. The word hit Mona like a slap. Just yesterday, she'd slept in a mansion.

"Take this shower token. Clean clothes are in that bin. No fancy stuff here, attracts the wrong attention."

The shower room was basic, cracked tiles, rusty pipes. Mona peeled off her once-beautiful dress. The donated clothes felt strange against her skin: faded jeans, a stretched-out t-shirt, worn sneakers. Everything too big, making her feel like a child playing dress-up.

"Bed 47," the worker told her. "Lights out at 10."

The sleeping room was packed with women, the air thick with coughing and quiet crying.

"First night's always the hardest."

Mona looked up. The woman in the next bed had kind eyes in a weathered face.

"I'm Rose," she said. "Been here three months now."

"Does it... get easier?" Mona's voice cracked.

"No. But you get stronger."

That night, someone stole her sneakers right from under her bed.

Morning came too early. Everyone out by 8 AM.

"But... where am I supposed to go?" Mona asked Rose, panic rising.

"Library's good. Warm, free bathrooms. Just don't fall asleep or they'll kick you out."

Mona walked barefoot through the city streets, trying to be invisible. The library opened at 9. She found a quiet corner and sank into a chair, her feet throbbing.

"Can't stay here all day, miss." A security guard startled her. "This isn't a hotel."

Back on the streets. The sun burned her skin, the pavement hot under her bare feet. People walked around her as if she didn't exist.

She found a McDonald's and counted the change in her pocket, just enough for a small coffee. The cashier's eyes lingered on her bare, dirty feet.

A group of well-dressed women passed by. One looked familiar, Jennifer from her old yoga class.

"Jennifer!" Mona called out, hope flaring. "It's me, Mona..."

Jennifer looked right through her and kept walking, as if Mona were a ghost.

By late afternoon, she felt dizzy with hunger. Her feet left small bloody prints on the sidewalk. A woman stopped, pressed a dollar into her hand. "God bless you, honey."

The first time anyone had spoken to her all day, and it was pity.

*** **

The shelter line started forming at 6 PM.

"No shoes, no entry," the new worker said firmly.

Rose appeared behind her. "Here," she said, offering old flip-flops. "Always keep extras."

But bed 47 was taken when they got inside.

"First rule of the shelter, never leave anything behind."

Rose shared her small cot that night, both women cramped but warm.

"Tomorrow," Rose whispered, "I'll show you where to get food. Real food, not garbage scraps."

"Why are you helping me?" Mona asked.

"Because someone helped me once. That's how we survive out here."

Morning came again. Another day of wandering, of being invisible. Rose had shown her a church that served free lunches on Tuesdays. The food was plain but filling.

"You need work," Rose had told her. "Without work, you stay stuck."

Work. Yes. Mona needed a job, any job. She couldn't live like this.

She tried a diner first. The manager seemed interested until he made a phone call. Then his face changed. "Position filled," he said, not meeting her eyes.

She tried a laundromat next. Same result.

By the third day, Mona was desperate. She saw a "Help Wanted" sign in a small clothing store window. The kind of place that sold cheap, trendy clothes to teenagers. Not somewhere Emily Caldwell would ever shop or care about.

"I can work any hours," Mona told the young manager. "I have retail experience."

"We do need someone," the girl said. "Let me check with the owner."

Hope flickered in Mona's chest. This might work.

The manager disappeared into the back room. Minutes passed.

A bell jingled as the front door opened. Mona turned, then froze.

Emily Caldwell stood in the doorway, elegant in a cream-colored pantsuit, gold jewelry gleaming at her throat and wrists.

"Well," Emily said, her voice cutting through the store's pop music. "Look what the cat dragged in."

Mona couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.

"I was just passing by when the manager called," Emily continued. "Said someone named Mona Lowes was applying for a job. Sounded suspiciously like my former daughter-in-law."

The few customers in the store were staring now.

"Please," Mona whispered. "I just need a job. Any job."

Emily laughed, the sound like breaking glass. "Oh, Mona. Still begging for handouts?" She looked Mona up and down. "My, how far you've fallen."

Shame burned through Mona's body. She wanted to run, but her feet seemed rooted to the floor.

"You know," Emily said conversationally, turning to the manager, "this woman stole thousands of dollars' worth of jewelry from me. Family heirlooms, irreplaceable pieces. Would you really want someone like that handling your cash register?"

"I didn't steal anything," Mona said. "She's lying."

"Am I?" Emily raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Tell me, where are you staying these days, Mona? I heard it was some filthy shelter downtown. Garbage belongs with garbage."

The manager was backing away now, avoiding Mona's eyes.

"I just need a chance," Mona said, fighting tears. "Please, Emily."

Emily stepped closer, her expensive perfume overwhelming. She lowered her voice so only Mona could hear.

"Listen carefully, you pathetic little nothing. You will never work in this town. I will make sure of it. Every application, every interview - I will be there. I will destroy you completely, until you crawl away and die in some forgotten corner."

Louder, for everyone watching, Emily added, "I'm sorry, but I cannot in good conscience allow this woman to work here. She's dangerous and mentally unstable."

"Why are you doing this?" Mona whispered. "You've already taken everything."

"Not quite everything," Emily replied softly. "I haven't yet taken your last shred of hope. But I'm working on it."

She turned to the manager. "I'd like to buy this store." She named a figure that made the girl's eyes widen. "Call your owner."

Emily looked at Mona one last time. "Oh, by the way. Samuel and Lora are engaged. Eight-carat diamond. Much bigger than yours." She leaned closer. "Lora says he's incredible in bed. Was he like that with you? No, I didn't think so."

"Security," Emily called. "Please escort this woman out. She's trespassing now."

Strong hands gripped Mona's arms, pulling her toward the exit. She didn't resist.

"Remember," Emily called after her. "Every door in this city is closed to you. Every single one."

*** ***

Mona stumbled away, barely seeing where she was going. She found herself in a small, dirty park and collapsed onto a bench. The tears came then, not gentle crying but harsh, ugly sobs that ripped through her chest.

Emily's words echoed in her mind. *Garbage belongs with garbage. Crawl away and die in some forgotten corner.* Was that really all that was left for her?

As darkness fell, Mona remained on the bench, her tears long dried up. She felt hollow, emptied of everything - hope, fear, even anger.

She thought about not going back to the shelter. About just staying here, letting the night take her. Would anyone even notice if she disappeared?

But her body, trained for survival, eventually stood. Moved. Back toward the shelter, toward another night of misery.

Rose was waiting in line, worry on her face. "Where were you? I saved you some food."

Mona couldn't answer. Couldn't explain.

"Mona?" Rose touched her arm. "What happened?"

"It's over," Mona whispered. "She'll never let me have anything. Not even a minimum wage job sweeping floors."

Inside, Mona finally told her everything. About Emily showing up at the store. About the threats.

"She won't stop until I'm dead," Mona concluded, her voice flat.

Rose was quiet for a long time. Then she said, "There's a place. Two hours by bus from here. My cousin works there. Factory job, terrible conditions, but they hire anyone. No questions, cash only. Even Emily Caldwell can't reach there."

Hope tried to flicker in Mona's chest, but she smothered it. "She'll find a way. She always does."

"Not this time," Rose insisted. "These people don't care about rich white ladies and their vendettas."

That night, she dreamed of Emily chasing her through endless corridors, each door slamming shut just as Mona reached for it.

The next morning, Rose pressed a small folded piece of paper into Mona's hand. "The address. Bus leaves at noon. My cousin's name is Lin. Tell her I sent you."

Mona stared at the paper, unable to feel anything. "I can't," she whispered. "I just can't do it anymore."

"Then what will you do?"

Mona had no answer. She walked the streets that day, the paper crumpled in her pocket. Her mind was empty, her heart numb.

By afternoon, she found herself near the river, staring at the dark water. How easy it would be to climb over the railing. One push, and it would all be over. Emily would win, but Mona wouldn't be there to care anymore.

A police officer approached. "Move along," he said gruffly. "No loitering."

Mechanically, Mona turned away from the bridge. Not because she wanted to live. But because she lacked even the energy to die.

Back at the shelter, Rose was waiting with news. "I called Lin. She's expecting you tomorrow. The job is yours if you want it."

Mona nodded, not feeling anything. "Thank you," she said, the words empty.

"You're not going, are you?" Rose asked, seeing through her.

"What's the point?" Mona whispered. "Emily will find me. She'll destroy that too."

"You can't give up," Rose insisted.

"Watch me," Mona replied, turning her face to the wall.

Sleep wouldn't come. Instead, Emily's face floated before her closed eyes, triumphant and cruel. Samuel's voice whispered in her ear, all the lies. Lora's laughter echoed in her mind.

They had won. Completely, utterly won.