One of the most common stereotypes about redheads is that they have serious anger problems. Well, I don't know about other redheads, but I do know that it's almost impossible to get me angry. 

Of course, my father does a pretty good job of messing around with my emotions, but he doesn't count, he never counts. But when I saw Noah, punching a friend of mine to death, I was about to lose it. Deciding to prevent him from killing the poor guy, I left my confused friend behind and paced towards the two.

"Stop punching him!" But Noah didn't stop. He just took a second to look at me with his deep green eyes, giving me the most terrifying glare, which will forever burn me alive. Then, he kept on punching my innocent classmate- George, like a mad person, hitting harder than before.

"Stop, Noah! You are hurting him! Stop already!" I screamed my lungs out, hating the fact that my words are nothing but background voices to him.

"You are going to kill him, sto-"

"What the fuck do you want?" He turned around, now holding George painfully by his wrist. His deathful glare became colder, but I couldn't give him the satisfaction and freeze on my spot.

"Leave him alone!"

"Who the fuck even are you to tell me what to do?" Why does every single sentence that comes out of his mouth includes that word?

"Who are you to punch my friend like that?" Either that missing word or the fact that I sounded childish, made him release his hold on George and turn around completely to face me.

"Oh, so he is your friend. Forgive me, princess, won't happen again," his sarcasm was bold and direct, not something that I expected from him at all.

"This better not happen again," I laughed at my formal tone inside but did everything I could do to look serious.

"Fucking stay out of my business," he warned me furiously, making the warning sound like my life is in great danger. His burning eyes left my dark ones only to meet with plain cold air. His swollen knuckles went back to tight fists, and I stood there quietly, knowing how mad he was at George's sweet escape.

"You have done enough damage," I told him firmly, trying to ignore the amount of anger and uncertainty I had buried inside of me. He has done enough damage, much more than he needed to. He couldn't just walk around and punch innocent people. Or could he?

"You will fucking regret it."

Ok, maybe he could.

~~~~~~~~~

That night, I came back home to find a brown letter inside the trash. The curiosity got the best of me, and I opened the letter, reading the first sentence: "The New Payments for Second Graders' Soccer Practices" and wanted to vanish in the cold air. My father had probably decided to throw the letter away, having nothing better to do with his miserable life.

While reading the tragic letter and staring at the numbers for way too long, I realized that it's time to look for another job. The money I earned in summer wasn't enough.

I had to find a new job as soon as possible.

After making sure Jacob was peacefully sleeping in his small room, and listening to him breathe for a couple of minutes(a very weird habit of mine), I called the manager of a dusty cafe in our insecure town. It was not a smart move, but it had to be done.

For Jacob.

"Hello," a manly voice greeted me.

"Hey, my name is Skylar Gray, and I was wondering if you were looking for a waitress at your cafe."

"We don't need any waitresses, Babygirl, but you can always come dance for some of my men at the bar, it's good money."

And I hung up, my heart beating rapidly inside my chest, only reminding me that it was really not a smart move.

I dialed the familiar numbers written on a small piece of paper, and before I could think clearly again, a deep voice broke the dark silence.

"Hello."

"Hey, Mr. Smith, it's Skylar, Vivian's-"

"I know who you are Skylar, how are you?" he asked me nicely.

"I am fine. How are you?"

"I am more than fine, I just opened my cafe," I heard the heavy emotion in his voice, and couldn't help but smile.

"Viv told me, it was good to hear."

"Thank you, dear. Do you need Vivian?"

"No. I was just wondering if you needed some help at your cafe."

Please don't ask me why, please don't ask me why.

"Of course, I need some help."

Thank God.

"Great, I am only free on the weekends. Is that okay with you?"

"Yes! Weekends are usually the hardest to deal with."

Did I mention that I love God?

"Okay. Oh, and before I forget, can you please keep it between us?"

I could hear his brain working on the other side, but luckily he agreed, and the call ended.

The things I do for that little boy.

~~~~~~~~~

My morning began as a lovely Thursday morning.

My freckles were bolder than usual, my smile was wilder, for some weird reason. And the best out of them all, I didn't have to waste a second trying to make my hair look suitable enough for school.

It was all going just fine.

Then, my father decided to wake up early. Trying his best to humiliate me, he demanded food(as usual). I gave him my already packed food as quick as possible and made sure to lock the door behind us, worrying he would take Jacob's delicious pasta, just like he took mine.

The lowest point of the day, or at least that's what I thought, was when Jacob forced me to take his pasta. We were arguing for at least twenty minutes until we reached school and said quiet goodbyes to each other.

My morning was not lovely at all anymore.

And I had a feeling that the worst is yet to come. 

~~~~~~~~~

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