Justice doesn’t exist. And if it does, it’s got a personal grudge against me. I used to believe that if you worked hard, stayed kind, and played by the rules, life would meet you halfway. But mornings like this one always proved me wrong.
Justice doesn’t exist
It was a regular Tuesday. The smell of burnt toast hit me the moment I stepped out of my room. When I reached the kitchen, I froze.
The counter was covered in dirty plates, cereal boxes were open, and something sticky was dripping down the fridge door.
On the couch, my brother Logan sat with his pregnant girlfriend, Brianna, watching TV like royalty on their throne.
It was a regular Tuesday
“Can this house be clean for at least one day?” I asked.
Brianna didn’t even look at me. “Then clean it. That’s your job anyway, isn’t it?”
“Logan, are you seriously going to let her talk to me like that?”
He sighed, eyes still on the screen. “Don’t start, Hailey. She’s pregnant. You know she shouldn’t get stressed.”
“Can this house be clean for at least one day?”
I let out a short laugh, more from disbelief than amusement.
Brianna finally turned her head toward me. “You know, maybe it’s time you start looking for another place. Once the baby’s here, we’ll need your room for the nursery.”