CLAMPED WITH ME FOREVER

Hillary POV:

Every story has a backstory. Most of them are epic, while some are bad. Just like how the alley leading to my apartment is dark, how my life has been dark and lonely ever since the beginning.

The street's light glitched as I walked toward my apartment, and it reminded me that my life was a story with a bad backstory. Dogs barked as I walked past different houses along the alley. The waste bin at the front of each house creates a nauseating feeling in my stomach. If I'm to throw up, I will probably throw up nothing because I didn't have breakfast.

As I got to the front of my apartment, I met my landlady seated at the front of my door. When she saw me coming, she stood up and rushed to meet me. "Glad you are back," The petite woman who was my landlady clapped her hands. She always does that every time I don't pay my rent on time. "You are two months late on your rent, Hillary," she shouted, and continued clapping her hands. Her voice echoes down the alley, and I am sure everyone must have heard her shouting.

"Mrs. Peters, I..." I tried to say something, but she clapped her hands.

"Duh, Duh, Duh!" she snapped her fingers at me. If she were up to my height, at 5 feet 7 inches tall, her fingers would be buried deep in my dark brown eyes.

"If I make excuses when I build this house, then it won't be standing today." She pointed to the building as if it was her best achievement. The building is a two-story house. I stay on the ground floor while she stays on the first floor.

"Mrs. Peters, I...." I tried to say something, and she snapped her fingers again.

"No excuses, young lady. You have five days. "If you don't pay my rent in five days, I will throw you out," she threatened, and walked away with cusses and mutterings.

I rolled my eyes as I mimicked her. "You have five days." She must have heard as she turned to look at me. "Good night, Mrs. Peters," I said as I entered my room before she could start a lengthy conversation.

"When?" I dropped my bag to the ground and fell to the ground as tears streamed down my face. Life has been unfair to me, and every time I try to compete with life, it never ends well.

I did not cry because of Mrs. Peters, but because my life is not what I expected it to turn out to be. My life is far from perfect, from a struggling job to a dying father. I don't have the life I've always wanted.

After crying my heart out, I stood up from the ground and lay on my couch. It's a two-seater black leather couch that doesn't fit my height, but what could a girl with no bed do? Nothing. I stared at my ceilings that are infested with cobwebs and dust and thought about my not-so-perfect life. Ten seconds later, I fell asleep. I knew I'd have nightmares while sleeping.

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"Rise and shine, Hillary!" My alarm blared in my bag. It's a tone I recorded myself because I love listening to myself talk. "If you don't stand up, Hillary, I will hit you." I groaned and blew off my black braided hair from my forehead and rose from the couch. I stretched and yawned loudly.

"Perfect," I said, getting up from the couch and looking for my bag, where the alarm was blaring. When I found my bag, I turned off the alarm and yawned again. I looked at my phone and groaned when I saw the time. It was 7:00 am, which meant my not-so-perfect life had begun.

I already have a schedule I use every morning. First, I take my bath, dress up, and rush out of the house to catch the early morning bus. Second, I alight at the bus stop that is close to the hospital where my father is admitted, and after checking up on him, I leave for my office.

My father's condition had become worse. Doctor John, the specialist in charge of my father's condition, informed me that morning.

But, " I paused and heaved a deep sigh. "What about another chemo?"

"It won't help. He is at the late stage and going through chemotherapy would give him more pain. You have to let him go. "

I bit my lip at the news as I fought back the tears that were threatening to fall. "How long does he have?"

"Three months, Max. I'm sorry, Hills, "he patsme on the back. "Concerning your debts," he paused and looked at me.

I know what he wants to say. It was about my debt to the hospital. I owe them a lot ever since my father started his treatment. "I'll settle the bills, John," I said to him before he could finish what he wanted to say.

"Okay. Stay strong, Hills," he smiled, and I returned the smile, but it changed to a frown.

I stood up and left the office, and when I got outside, a terrible headache hit me and it felt like my head was getting hit with a hammer. I held my head as another wave of a headache hit me.

"Leave the way!" A husky voice brought me out of my surprising pain. I raised my head and looked at the person. A white man in a wheelchair stared back at me as I continued to look at him. He has unique hazel eyes, which I find attractive. "Are you deaf?" The man shouted, sounding a little bit harsh.

I faked a smile like I always do with my patients and made a way for him. He wheels himself away without turning to look at me.

"Different people with their problems, "I muttered and headed towards my father's room."

"Dad," I whispered as I entered the room. My father, who used to be full of life, lay lifeless on his bed. His black curly hair was bald, and his face looked like a dead man. It was pale and lifeless. In his mouth was a tube connecting to life support. "I don't know what to do." I grabbed his hand. "I wish I could bring back the time when you were fine and always happy."

I stared at my father's face and wished he could just open his eyes. Ever since he was diagnosed with cancer twelve years ago, he has never said a word to me. "Just show me you are okay! Move a finger or something! " I shouted and cried out. "Dad!" I didn't want to lose my father, but there was nothing I could do but watch him die.