Chapter 1
Alia closed the door softly and wrapped her arms around her siblings, telling them to stay quiet while their parents fought. Outside the room, her stepfather was screaming at her mother. Alia had no idea what the argument was about this time but she listened intently from behind the door. Turning to her siblings, she placed a finger over her lips. “Terus kunci pintu lepas kakak keluar,” she whispered.
Suddenly, she heard her stepfather rise to his feet and she knew it was her cue to intervene. She flung open the bedroom door and pulled her mother away from the chaos. “Anak haram!” her stepfather shouted at her. Alia quickly led her mother into another room and locked the door behind them. “Bukak pintu, babi anak haram!” he banged on the door but after a moment, he gave up.
Alia held her mother tightly, stroking her hair as her mother cried softly in her arms. This was becoming all too familiar. “Maafkan mak, Alia,” her mother murmured through her tears. Alia waited patiently for her mother to fall asleep before quietly slipping out to check on her siblings.
In the living room, her stepfather lay sprawled on the couch, completely passed out and reeking of cheap beer. She took out her key and unlocked her bedroom door. Only she had keys for every room in the house and with just two rooms, it felt cramped for a family of six.
As she opened the door, she found her siblings huddled together, peacefully asleep. She grabbed her hoodie and locked the door behind her, making sure everyone was safe before sneaking out of the house.
Alia walked down the stairs, the street mostly empty except for a few parked cars. She settled onto the steps in front of a 7-Eleven and lit a cigarette, allowing herself a moment of solitude amidst the chaos of her life.
Life had always been tough for Alia ever since her mother married her stepfather. As the eldest of four, she found herself navigating the complexities of family dynamics with her three step-siblings from her mother’s second marriage. Alia's father had passed away when she was just three years old and her mother quickly remarried an abusive man. They lived in a tiny house above a shop lot, where her mother worked as a cleaner and her stepfather drove a lorry.
The door to the 7-Eleven swung open and Ali stepped outside, only to see Alia sitting on the steps. He instantly recognized her; she often came down for a smoke at this hour. Despite having seen her many times, he had never actually spoken to her and he still didn’t know her name. The air was thick with unspoken words and Ali felt a mix of curiosity and empathy for the girl whose life seemed so heavy.