🚨 Walking Poverty Line: The Forgotten Child’s Fight for Survival

Fun & Games
By: SighkossStudiosTM
"Okay, Brat. Get out. Welcome home," her mom mumbled through lips that seemed more interested in holding the Marlboro in place than making her feel comfortable.
"Yeah," Shadyn thought, "Home sweet home, alright."

Shadyn clutched her bag to her chest, contemplating not even getting out of the car. Tears threatened to spill, but she choked them back, letting her stomach flip yet again. She knew showing weakness in this environment was the last thing she needed.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped out, letting the door creak shut behind her.
She followed the same route her mom had taken to the cabin door. What everyone else referred to as "the cabin" was really just one room divided by a partial wall with a double door cutout—only there was no door.
Shadyn took another breath, opened the door, and crossed the threshold.

Game Day Rules
From the doorway, she could see the TV in the other room. The Colts game was on, and she knew exactly what that meant.
Game day was sacred in the holler. You were doing well not to be seen or heard during game time.
Her stepdad’s low baritone voice surged through the invisible space between them, hitting her eardrums like an atomic bomb.
"Shoes."
Shadyn bent down to untie her shoes, taking one off and setting it to the side, then the other. The second shoe made a slight plunk as it hit the floor—Matt must have heard.
There was a green canvas army cot set up next to the mini fridge immediately to her left. She set her backpack down and looked around.
The hotplate on the counter opposite her was surrounded by greasy spoons and foam plates. Empty beer cases sat next to the trash can, which overflowed with crushed Coors cans and foam plates. Some had spilled onto the floor, mingling with plastic silverware.
Against the wall was a composting toilet, with a water bottle labeled “Bleach” beside it. She guessed it was for her mom when she didn’t want to walk to the outhouse in the dark.

The Carpet Museum
Shadyn approached the opening that separated her stepdad and herself, reminding herself to breathe. She picked at her sleeves nervously, crossed her legs, and lowered herself to the floor on the cleanest piece of carpet she could find.
The stains on the carpet told stories of their own. Her uncle Jim had lived here before, dying of a heart attack when his medication clashed with the alcohol in his system.
Alcoholism ran thick on this side of the tracks, and it showed in the burn marks and spills of assorted colors on the floor.
In some twisted way, Shadyn admired it. She thought of the stains as something she might observe in an art museum—the vast array of colors, shapes, and saturation spilled out on a wall instead of a floor.

Matt’s Rules
Her stepdad sat in front of her in a small recliner, her eyes locking onto the beer in his hand. She made a mental note of the cans sticking out of the trash can next to him.
He lifted the can to his mouth, finishing the last bit. A line of bubbles flowed from the corner of his mouth to his chest.
He let out a refreshing “Ahhh,” followed by a loud burp.
Waving his hand, he signaled her to grab him another beer from the fridge.
"Com’ere, girl. Let me lay it out for you."
Matt’s voice was sharp, cutting through the room.
"Your daddy decided to go and mess around on your mom Bonnie, and they’ve decided that it’s over. He hasn’t even raised a fucking dog, let alone a kid, so you got dumped on our doorstep. So you’re here, so stay out of my way. Don’t be fighting with your mom and pick up after yourself.
You get your ass up, and you get your ass on the bus. I already called, and it’ll pick you up at the top of the holler at 6:45 in the mornin’. So get up, get ready, and walk your ass to the top of the holler with the rest of the kids.
You get yourself to school, and before you try to say you’re sick or start your shit, you better have puke on your shoes or a fever of 104.
While you’re under my roof, you’re going to work. Look at you—your dad keeping you in that room and throwing food at you like a dog. Look at you. Don’t you want to feel good about yourself?
We bathe outside, and we have to conserve water. You’ll go with your mom to the ‘mat once every two weeks. So learn to wear your clothes a couple times, and if it’s not in the truck when you leave, then tough shit."
Luckily for Shadyn, the NFL theme song echoed from the screen behind her.
"Now go on, get. You’re fucking up play time."
Shadyn responded with a meek, “Yes, sir.”
She got up quickly, slipping her shoes on and heading back outside.
"Don’t be fanning my fucking door running in and out either."
She acknowledged his demand with another “Yes, sir.”

Hillbilly Hell Hole
Shadyn followed the dirt path out and over the troll bridge that crossed the creek in the front yard. She used to spend so much time playing there when she was younger.
She stood in front of the outhouse, staring at it blankly. Frozen in place, she pictured the pale orchid wallpaper in the bathroom at home.
The ugly hunter green toilet.
The pair of sunglasses that looked like two pink hippos wearing party hats, sitting on the shelf covered in dust.
She pressed her sleeve over her nose and approached the door, blocking the overwhelming smell of a porta-pot left in the sun for a century.
Using her foot, she lifted the makeshift lid over what she referred to as the hillbilly hell hole.
She bent down and picked up a can of Lysol from the floor, spraying it vigorously toward the hole as gnats escaped.
Reluctantly, Shadyn turned and slipped her pants down, hovering as she tried to let nature do its thing.
Thoughts of a rogue spider biting her—or a gnat flying somewhere catastrophic—made her cringe.
She reached for the roll of toilet paper, spotting the biggest furry black tarantula in the corner.
Letting out a shriek, she fell forward out of the door onto a pile of random junk.
Pants still around her knees, still peeing, she tried to pull herself up out of the dirt.
As she fell, she pulled the tarp covering everything down, trying to catch herself.
The pooled rainwater dumped down the front of her.
She lay on the ground, covered in dirt, urine, and more dirt.

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