Sarah’s Living

Words: 1153

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It was a gray, chilly morning when Sarah woke up to the familiar sound of her mother’s voice echoing

through the small house. The walls were thin, and every word seemed to reverberate in the cramped

space. Her mother was already in the kitchen, yelling at her younger brother, Jameel who had spilled

a glass of milk on the floor again. The house was always filled with tension, the kind that settled into

every corner and lingered in the air like dust. Sarah rubbed her eyes and slowly sat up in bed, her

body aching from the cold. She had grown accustomed to the stiffness in her joints, the wariness that

seemed to cling to her bones.

At just seventeen, she already felt much older, worn down by years of emotional exhaustion. Her

mother had always been the center of attention, laughing and full of energy, while her father was the

quiet, steady one who provided for the family. But over time, things had changed. The laughter had

faded, and the warmth had dissipated like the morning fog. Arguments became more frequent, the

kind that went on behind closed doors, where Sarah was forced to stay silent and pretend like

everything was normal.

As Sarah made her way to the kitchen, she felt a wave of dread wash over her. She knew that today

would be no different than the others. The tension between her parents had been growing for

months, maybe even years and Sarah was stuck in the middle of it all. She loved them both, but it

was hard to hold onto that love when their actions felt like a constant reminder of how broken their

family had become. Her mother’s voice cut through the silence, “I’m tired of cleaning up after you,

Jameel! Why can’t you be more careful?”

Sarah’s mother, Gabrielle, was a woman who had once been full of dreams but had long ago given

up on them. Now, her eyes were always tired, her face drawn, and her words sharp. Every

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interaction seemed to be laced with bitterness, a reflection of the years of disappointment she had

faced.

Jameel, who was only ten, shrunk away from his mother’s anger, his face flushed with

embarrassment. Sarah could see the fear in his eyes, and it broke her heart. She wanted to step in

and say something that would make everything better, but she had learned long ago that silence was

often the safest option. “Good morning, Mom” Sarah muttered, sitting down at the kitchen table. Her

mother didn’t acknowledge her greeting, her attention focused entirely on Jameel. “You should be

more like your sister,” Gabrielle said. Her voice dripping with resentment. “She knows how to take

care of things.” Sarah’s heart sank. It wasn’t the first time her mother had compared her to Jameel

and it wouldn’t be the last.

No matter how hard he tried to meet his mother’s expectations, it was never enough. “Sorry Mom,”

Jameel muttered. His small voice trembling. Gabrielle huffed, clearly frustrated. “I just don’t

understand how you’re always so careless. You’re going to grow up to be just like your father, useless

and irresponsible.” The words hit Sarah like a slap. She had heard them before; they never lost their

sting.

Her father David was a quiet man who had become increasingly withdrawn over the years. He

worked long hours at a job he hated, but he never spoke of it. He had grown distant emotionally,

unavailable and often retreated into his own world of isolation. It was hard for Sarah to remember the

man he had once been. The man who used to come home with a smile ready to tell stories from his

day. Her mother’s bitterness toward her father was palpable, and it only made the situation worse.

Sarah had become accustomed to the coldness between her parents, the way they avoided each

other whenever possible.

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School was the only place where Sarah felt some what free. There, she could disappear into the

crowd, blend in with her classmates, and for a few hours, forget about the chaos that awaited her at

home.

But even school couldn’t fully shield her from the reality of her life. At lunch, Sarah sat alone in the

corner of the cafeteria, picking at her food as she watched the other students laugh and chat. She

envied them, the ones who had normal families, the ones who didn’t go home to a house filled with

constant fighting and tension. She had friends, but it was hard to connect with anyone when her mind

was constantly preoccupied with the mess that was her home life. Her phone buzzed in her pocket,

pulling her out of her thoughts. It was a text from a friend she hadn’t spoken to in weeks. “Hey, you,

okay? You’ve been distant lately.” Her fingers lingering over the screen. She put the phone down,

shoving it into her bag with a sigh. The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. She dragged herself

through the end of the day barely paying attention in class. When the final bell rang, signaling the

end of the school day Sarah headed home, the weight of the world settling on her shoulders once

again.

The next morning, Sarah woke up with a new sense of resolve. She still didn’t know how to fix

everything, but she knew she couldn’t keep living in the shadows anymore. She couldn’t keep letting

her life be dictated by her mother’s apathy and her father’s silence. When she walked into the

kitchen that morning, she didn’t sit down quietly like she always did. Instead, she turned to her

mother, her voice steady but firm “Mom, we need to talk” she said. her mother looked up, startled by

the change in Sarah’s tone. For a moment, there was a flicker of recognition in her eyes, but it

quickly faded. “What is it now?” Her mother’s voice was sharp, defensive. “I can’t keep doing this”

Sarah said, her voice stronger now. “I can’t keep living in a house where no one cares. I’m not

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invisible.” Her mother didn’t respond at first and Sarah thought she might as well retreat into her

usual silence. But then something shifted. A small crack appeared in the wall her mother had built

around herself. “I know” her mother whispered, her voice barely audible. “I don’t know what to do

either.” For the first time in years, Sarah felt like she wasn’t alone in her struggle. It wasn’t much but

it was something. A tiny opening, a crack in the door that has been closed for so long. Things didn’t

change overnight. It would take time and effort and a willingness to confront the pain they had both

been hiding. But for the first time in a long time, Sarah had hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, a

life behind closed doors could open up again.

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