The man felt his heart drop to his stomach, chains tying his wrists in an industrial prison. His children watched him be dragged out of their house, sobbing hysterically. A box of opened markers laid on the floor, spewing out all colors of the rainbow. On the floor, being soaked in salty tears, was a family portrait. Behind them, their mother, Betty, shook with her head in her hands. The door closed behind them, and a deafening silence followed. The man on the TV continued to give the forecast, a smile plastered on his face in this moment of fear and terror.
The man would be sent to prison, fentanyl rushing through his veins. It was unfortunate, and his wife certainly wouldn't miss him, as indicated by the bruises on her neck, but the sudden disruption of their family was a travesty.
The next day, an empty tube of toothpaste was stretched and squeezed for a measly drop, the only amount that was left squeezing out in a sad stream. They could only afford going to the store about once every two weeks, and they were on day 12. Two days without toothpaste wouldn't kill them, but the twins' mother felt like a failure. How, how'd she get into this situation? She was born into wealth, went to collage, earned a degree in Chemistry, and then was accused of homicide at the ripe age of 23. She was 48 now, and no job would take a "murderer". Her daughters knew her, just by her heart, not her accusations. Jezebel, 10, sat in the brown living chair, pink bow adorned on the top of her head. Marissa, her twin sister, sat across from her on the couch, doing an attempt at a braid on her Barbie's head.
A knock at the door boosted throughout the room, and Mary rushed to the door to see who it was. A single girl, looking about 19, stood in front of her with a pamphlet in her hand. "Hi," she said shyly, offering the paper to Mary. "I know I don't usually come around to this neighborhood so this might be the first time I've talked to you about this, but I'm starting this local apothecary and... I would appreciate it if you could stop by sometime." Mary smiled at the girl, who looked like her at that age. "Any time, of course."