The Wrong Withmore

CHAPTER *South Side Survival

POV: Katie

The alarm rang at 4:30 a.m but I was already awake.

I lay still on the couch for a moment, staring up at the cracked ceiling above me. The same thin line stretched from one corner to the other, like something had tried to split the apartment in half and failed.

Some mornings, it felt like that crack was the only thing holding everything together.

Cold air slipped through the poorly sealed window beside me, brushing against my face, settling deep into my bones. I exhaled slowly, watching my breath fade into nothing.

Another day and my body already hurt.

My shoulders were stiff, my lower back sore from too many nights spent on a couch that was never meant to hold someone this long but I didn’t complain.

I never did.

Carefully, I pushed the blanket aside and sat up, pausing for a second as the room steadied around me.

The apartment was quiet, too quiet.

My eyes moved instinctively toward the bedroom.

The door was slightly open, just enough for me to see the faint glow of the bedside lamp still on.

I stood, wrapping my cardigan tighter around myself, and walked softly across the creaking floor.

Every step mattered and every sound felt too loud.

Inside the bedroom, the air was different.

Heavier, warmer and fragile.

Mama lay in bed, her body small beneath the blankets, her skin pale in a way that didn’t belong to the living.

There were no loud machines, no dramatic sounds but the quiet presence of medicine bottles, pill organizers, and half-empty glasses of water filled the space with something else.

A kind of silence that said everything.Time was running out.

I stepped closer, my movements instinctively gentle.Her breathing was shallow, but steady.

I watched her for a few seconds just to make sure. Just to be certain nothing had changed while I slept.

Only then did I let myself breathe.

“You’re okay,” I whispered under my breath.

I reached out, adjusting the blanket slightly, then brushed a strand of her hair away from her forehead.

She stirred faintly.

“Katie…?” she murmured.

“I’m here, Mama,” I said softly.

She relaxed again but I didn’t move. I stayed there, watching her.

Because lately, there was a thought I couldn’t ignore anymore....Every morning like this might be one of the last.

In the kitchen, the pipes groaned when I turned on the water. I winced, glancing back toward the bedroom.

Still quiet..good.

I filled a small pot and set it on the stove. The flame flickered weakly before catching, casting a soft glow across the worn counters.

The kitchen still smelled faintly of yesterday’s food. Cheap broth with overcooked vegetables.

But it was warm and that was enough.

“We’ll manage,” I murmured softly.

Almost like a promise.

“Always.”

Behind me, a door creaked. I didn’t have to turn to know it was Scarlett.

“You’re up again?” she muttered, her voice thick with sleep.

I smiled faintly, still facing the stove.

“I have to be.”

She walked in, leaning against the wall, her hair messy in a way that somehow still looked beautiful.

Everything about her looked efeffortless. untouched.

Even here.

“It’s freezing,” she said, glancing around.

“I didn’t turn the heat on yet,” I replied.

She scoffed.

“Of course you didn’t. God forbid we spend money on something that actually makes life bearable.”

I didn’t answer I just stirred the pot slowly.

The silence stretched between us, filled only by the soft bubbling of water.

“You’re going to kill yourself one day,” she said suddenly.

I kept my movements steady.

“Running around like this. Two jobs, no sleep, taking care of her… all of it.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” she snapped. “You look like you haven’t slept in weeks.”

I turned slightly, meeting her gaze.

“I’d rather be tired than useless.”

The words came out quiet but they stayed.

Scarlett’s expression shifted for a second and then she rolled her eyes and looked away.

“Yeah,” she muttered. “Keep telling yourself that.”

I poured the soup into two bowls because there wasn’t much but it was enough.

It had to be.

I carried them into the bedroom, Mama was awake now.barely but she was fighting.

Her eyes opened slowly when I stepped closer.

“There you are,” she whispered, a faint smile on her lips.

I sat carefully on the edge of the bed.

“I made something,” I said.

She looked at the bowl, then back at me.

“You always do.”

I helped her sit up, supporting her gently, making sure she didn’t strain herself.

Her hands trembled as she took the spoon.

She managed a small sip, then another.

“I hate this,” she whispered after a moment. “I hate being like this… being a burden.”

My chest tightened instantly.

“You’re not,” I said, more firmly than I meant to.

She looked at me and I reached up, brushing her hair back again.

“You’re not a burden. Not to me.”

Her eyes softened.“You’re too good, Katie.”

I shook my head.

“No,” I said quietly. “I’m just doing what matters.”

She smiled but there was sadness in it, you could see it.

She knew what it was costing me.

Outside, the city was already waking.

I stepped out of the building, pulling my gloves on as the cold bit into my skin immediately.

Sirens echoed somewhere far away. A car sped past too fast. Garbage trucks rattled along broken streets.

The South Side didn’t wake up gently It survived.

I adjusted my bag on my shoulder and started walking.

My day was already planned, Diner first and then the newspaper route.

Bills.

Medicine.

Everything in order.

Everything necessary.

No room for mistakes and no room for rest.

I didn’t look back because I couldn’t.

Because if I did I might notice how tired I really was.

Or how heavy everything felt.

Or how alone I already was becoming.

Upstairs, Scarlett was probably still by the window.

I didn’t need to see her to know that. She always looked out there.Toward the skyline, toward something bigger. She always dreaming for a good life

Something better. Something I didn’t allow myself to want. Because wanting things like that didn’t change anything.

So I kept walking.Step after step, Into another day, same life.

Holding everything together the only way I knew how...Quietly, carefully.

Without breaking. Because if I did, there would be no one left to hold anything at all.

Chapter* Escape Plan

POV: Scarlett

The cold felt worse that morning.Not just the air was cold but everything.

It crept under my skin, settled into my bones, made every step heavier than it should have been. I pulled my coat tighter around me, the fabric thin and useless against the wind, and kept walking.

Newspapers were tucked under my arm, the edges biting into my fingers through worn gloves that barely did their job.

My breath came out in sharp white clouds, disappearing into the gray sky hanging low over the South Side.

Everything looked the same.

It always did.

The streets smelled like gasoline, damp concrete… and something faintly metallic, like rust and old rain that never really washed anything clean.

Morning here wasn’t soft. It wasn’t quiet. Engines roared to life down the street. Voices shouted across sidewalks.

Sirens cut through everything like a warning no one listened to anymore.

I hated it.Every