by Mary McCall<\/p>\n
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“I can’t make rent,” her father said, looking at her expectantly. Her eyes raised to look at him as a pungent stench echoed from her father’s clothes. Chemicals and burnt plastic, a smell all too familiar. This wasn’t her father talking to her.<\/p>\n
“How much do you need?” She responded languorously. She knew that this was the safest question to ask, but she dreaded asking it. She worked hard for this money getting it any way she could, but none of that would\u2019ve mattered because the red veins in his sclera told her all she needed to know. She wasn\u2019t his daughter right now, not when he was like this.<\/p>\n
“Five hundred?” That\u2019s more than last month. She tried to think of a way out of this.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t have five hundred dollars on hand, Dad.\u201d This was the truth, but it wasn\u2019t the whole truth.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou do have it on your card though.\u201d His nails dug into the skin on his hand as his body swayed. He was becoming impatient. She reached for her debit card knowing there was no other way around this. Quickly, she grabbed it and handed it to him with a sigh closing her eyes softly. He yanked it from her and headed for the front door.<\/p>\n
He uttered, \u201cI promise, I\u2019ll pay you back.\u201d It was just another promise he couldn\u2019t keep. She knew that he was thousands of dollars in debt to her, but still, buying his every lie was all that could keep her sane.<\/p>\n
“Yeah, sure.” She mumbled at the door as her father slammed it behind him. She tried to remember a time when she wasn’t his keeper and couldn\u2019t, but still, she swears that he didn’t use to be this bad.<\/p>\n
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Mary McCall is a senior at the College of Charleston who is aiming to graduate in May 2023. She is majoring in creative writing and minoring in studio art and theatre.<\/p>\n