Chapter 23
Emily ignored the stares and let her hair curtain her face, shielding her scars from view.
At St. Gabriel Reform Academy, injuries were routine among the ten people they’d stripped of human dignity. While the other people carried gruesome marks, her scars looked almost gentle by comparison.
Crouching to collect the fallen clothes and racks, Emily kept apologizing under her breath. “I’m truly sorry. I’ll cover any damages, but I’ll need time. I don’t have the money now.”
The Bennetts had sent her to that institution before she could complete her schooling, leaving her with no qualifications and empty pockets. The price tags on these clothes might as well have been astronomical numbers-she couldn’t possibly afford a single item.
The store manager instinctively moved to steady the racks alongside Emily. As she caught sight of the fresh bruises on Emily’s face and the half-healed cuts along her arms, her stern demeanor softened.
She was just an ordinary employee trying to keep her job-but with no supervisor around, she decided to let it slide.
After a quick inspection of the merchandise, she gave an awkward cough. “Nothing’s ruined. Just go. Be more careful next time.”
Emily recognized compassion when she saw it. She wasn’t naive enough to miss that.
Emily offered the manager a quiet “Thank you” before turning away. Under the gaze of onlookers-some curious, others pitying she exited the mall that had once brought her so much joy.
Two streets over, a street vendor’s call pierced through the city sounds. “Closing sale! Tees for $10. Pants for $20. Last chance.”
A group of silver-haired shoppers rummaged through the displayed clothing.
Emily looked down at her own torn dress-it was beyond wearing now. She moved to the stall and picked out a loose long- sleeved shirt and a pair of straight-leg pants. The total came to thirty dollars.
She only had the thirty-one dollars she’d found in the hoodie. After setting aside six dollars for bus fare between St. Gabriel’s and home, she was left with just twenty-five.
With tentative steps, Emily approached the seller. “Would you consider twenty-five for these?” She extended her meager cash offering. “It’s all I’ve got.”
The vendor barely looked up from his other customers before noticing the small bills in Emily’s palm. With a good-natured laugh, he flashed his QR code. “Can’t do it, sweetheart. Profit margins. Digital payment’s fine though.”
Heat rose in Emily’s face as she confessed, “I don’t have a phone.”
The elderly customers cast sympathetic glances her way. Emily’s cheeks burned with quiet humiliation.
No education, no phone, no job, no money, no home-she didn’t even have decent clothes to wear. This wasn’t how her life was supposed to turn out.
Her fingers clenched around the loose change in her palm. ‘I’ll just buy one pair of pants,’ she mused. This dress can be shortened into a top.’
She was about to walk away when a soft voice stopped her. “Are you in trouble, dear?”
An elderly woman held Emily’s hand, her eyes darkening with grief as they traveled from Emily’s swollen cheek to the scars lining her arms. “No one should treat you this way.”
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: From Ruin She Rose