Graduation Day's Cruel Ultimatum

Fumo Baobao

Young Adult | Completed

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My high school hunger was a secret I carried, a constant, gnawing emptiness in my gut. My mother's decree echoed daily: "You're smart enough for honors classes, you're smart enough to figure out food," leaving me to navigate lunchtimes with only a sloshing stomach and burning cheeks as friends clattered trays and devoured greasy pizza. But the true test came the Wednesday before Thanksgiving break. My mother, her face cold and impassive, delivered an ultimatum that slashed through my fragile existence: drop out and work, or forever lose the right to call her house home. I chose school, my voice barely a whisper, and seconds later, the front door clicked shut, severing ties, leaving me to the brutal, biting November night. With nothing but a backpack, I ended up huddled in a forgotten corner of a community center gym, the chill piercing through my thin clothes, my dreams feeling colder still. Each shiver was a reminder of her harsh rejection. How could a parent abandon their child, especially one striving for a better future? Was my entire life a misguided 'fantasy' in her eyes, a burden she could simply cast aside? The injustice burned, leaving me utterly adrift and alone. Then, through the flickering lights of the gym, I saw him again – Jake Peterson, the golden boy, unexpectedly volunteering. His laughter died when his gaze landed on me, a travel-worn vagrant in his world. Instantly, his kindness, the same compassion that had once offered me half a sandwich and pulled me back from hunger, resurfaced. "Sarah? What are you doing here?" he whispered, and then, without hesitation, extended his hand: "You're not staying here. Come on. My place."

Modern Kickass Heroine Revenge Female-centered Personal growth

Chapter 10

01-06 19:34

Introduction

My high school hunger was a secret I carried, a constant, gnawing emptiness in my gut.

My mother's decree echoed daily: "You're smart enough for honors classes, you're smart enough to figure out food," leaving me to navigate lunchtimes with only a sloshing stomach and burning cheeks as friends clattered trays and devoured greasy pizza.

But the true test came the Wednesday before Thanksgiving break.

My mother, her face cold and impassive, delivered an ultimatum that slashed through my fragile existence: drop out and work, or forever lose the right to call her house home.

I chose school, my voice barely a whisper, and seconds later, the front door clicked shut, severing ties, leaving me to the brutal, biting November night.

With nothing but a backpack, I ended up huddled in a forgotten corner of a community center gym, the chill piercing through my thin clothes, my dreams feeling colder still.

Each shiver was a reminder of her harsh rejection.

How could a parent abandon their child, especially one striving for a better future?

Was my entire life a misguided 'fantasy' in her eyes, a burden she could simply cast aside?

The injustice burned, leaving me utterly adrift and alone.

Then, through the flickering lights of the gym, I saw him again – Jake Peterson, the golden boy, unexpectedly volunteering.

His laughter died when his gaze landed on me, a travel-worn vagrant in his world.

Instantly, his kindness, the same compassion that had once offered me half a sandwich and pulled me back from hunger, resurfaced.

"Sarah? What are you doing here?" he whispered, and then, without hesitation, extended his hand: "You're not staying here. Come on. My place."