Ethan

Hope was sitting on the front stoop outside of our house when I got back home. She had a browning apple in one hand and a water bottle sitting beside her indicating that was probably her dinner.

“No food again?” I carried the takeout bag with chicken sandwiches and fries behind my back.

“Nope.” Hope took another bite of her apple that looked like it had seen its better days. “Moms sleeping, dads doing what he normally does. I kept this from lunch,” she held up the apple, “just in case.”

I held out the bag of food and saw the look of joy and relief that crossed over her young face. She shouldn’t have to deal with this shit at such a young age. She was innocent, and yet the parents had to make her suffer for their incapabilities.

“What would I ever do without you.” Hope grabbed the wrapped sandwich and carton of fries. She woofed them both down like she hadn’t eaten for a week.

I