When Time stands still

Alessia

The bar was its usual chaotic mess of noise and bad manners. The air smelled of stale beer, sweat, and desperation. My hands moved mechanically, wiping glasses and pouring drinks, while my mind wandered to the stack of overdue bills sitting on our kitchen counter.

"Alessia!" Marcello's sharp voice cut through the din. I glanced up from the bar to see him glaring at me from the other side of the room.

"Table five," he barked. "They’re waiting for you. Move it!"

I grabbed a tray and forced my legs to move, weaving through the crowded tables. The patrons at table five were already halfway to drunk, their laughter loud and obnoxious.

"Finally," one of the men sneered as I placed their drinks on the table. "We thought you forgot about us, sweetheart."

"Sweetheart" was his polite version. The lecherous grin on his face told me he was considering far worse.

I ignored him, turning to leave, but as I stepped away, I felt a hand grab my ass. My body froze.

Laughter erupted behind me, and I spun around, glaring at the man responsible. He was leaning back in his chair, his hand still outstretched, a smug smile on his face.

"Relax," he slurred. "Just having a bit of fun."

I saw red. "You want fun?" I snapped, my voice cutting through the noise. "Try buying a personality first. Maybe then you won’t have to grope women just to get their attention."

The laughter at the table died instantly. The man’s face turned red, his smirk replaced by anger. "Watch your mouth, girl," he growled, standing up and leaning toward me.

"Or what?" I shot back, refusing to back down. My heart pounded, but I refused to let him see any fear. "You’ll call the manager? Go ahead. I’d love to see you explain why you can’t keep your hands to yourself."

Before he could respond, Marcello stormed over, his face dark with rage.

"What the hell is going on here?" he demanded, his eyes darting between me and the man.

"Your waitress has an attitude problem," the man said, his voice dripping with indignation.

"She has a problem, all right," Marcello snapped, but his glare was directed at me. "Alessia, in the back. Now."

I didn’t argue. I didn’t even look at the man as I turned and walked toward the back of the bar, my hands shaking with anger.

In the cramped storage room, Marcello rounded on me, his face a mask of fury.

"What the hell do you think you’re doing?" he demanded.

"I was defending myself," I said through gritted teeth.

"Defending yourself? From a paying customer?" he spat. "Do you know how much trouble you could’ve caused? We don’t need your damn pride scaring off the regulars."

"So I’m just supposed to let them grab me?" I shot back.

Marcello stepped closer, his finger jabbing toward my face. "You’re supposed to shut up, smile, and do your damn job. Or I’ll find someone else who can."

The words stung, but I refused to let him see it. "Fine," I said coldly. "Are we done here?"

He glared at me for a moment longer before waving me off. "Get back to work. And don’t let this happen again, Alessia."

I bit back the retort on the tip of my tongue and walked out, my head held high even as my stomach churned with frustration.

By the time my shift ended, I was exhausted. Every muscle in my body ached, and my head throbbed from the constant noise. I grabbed my coat and stepped outside, the cool night air hitting my skin like a welcome relief.

The walk home felt longer than usual, my thoughts weighing me down. Marcello’s words replayed in my head, mixing with the guilt I couldn’t shake. I hated this job, but I needed it. For Mom.

When I finally reached our small house, the lights were on, and I felt a pang of relief. At least Mom was still awake.

“Mom?” I called, setting my bag down on the table.

There was no response. A chill ran down my spine, and I hurried to her room. The sight that greeted me made my heart stop.

Mom was lying on the floor, her body limp, her face pale as death.

"Mom!" I screamed, dropping to my knees beside her. I shook her gently, panic rising in my chest. "Mom, wake up!"

Her eyes fluttered open, and a weak groan escaped her lips.

"Alessia," she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Tears blurred my vision as I cradled her head in my hands. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"I just… got dizzy," she said softly.

"You should’ve called me," I choked out. "I would’ve come home."

She shook her head weakly. "You work too hard already, cara mia. I didn’t want to bother you."

"Bother me? Mom, you scared me half to death," I said, my voice breaking.

She managed a faint smile. "I’m fine. Just help me to bed."

I helped her up, my heart pounding with a mix of fear and anger. Once she was settled, I sat on the edge of her bed, watching her as she drifted off to sleep.