It was three o'clock. The car wasn't there yet, but then again, Eve knew better than to let her parents see any sign of doubt.

  Her mother glanced at the clock, hanging slightly askew on the dusty wall, and back at her with an unreadable expression. Her tall frame was sturdy, built from years of physical labour to earn just enough for the family to keep afloat and the second-hand textbooks that had given her the glimmer of a chance.

  The woman’s hands trembled slightly as she adjusted the sash on her fraying house robe. Her hair was streaked grey and pulled back into an uneven bun that hadn't seen brushing in days. Her husband sat silently by the grimy window.

  "Still going to keep the appointment I made for you?" Mother asked, her voice hesitant, tinged with something Eve couldn't place. "Got a finder's fee riding on that."

  Eve shifted under her gaze, but she didn’t flinch. She took a deep breath and regretted it. The air was tainted with the all too familiar stink of stale cigarette smoke and musty dampness she couldn't get rid of regardless of how hard she cleaned or what products she used.

  "It’s at ten. Doesn’t matter what you wear," she continued, her eyes darting away to the clock as if trying not to meet Eve's gaze for too long. "It's Flutters. You’ll be taking it all off soon enough."

  No way—not happening, not now, not ever. Her stomach churned at the thought. She wasn't going to end up working at a pleasure house at eighteen. Eve shook her head firmly, her decision unwavering despite the chaos in her chest. As much as she tried to ignore it, it still hurt. Mothers were meant to be better than this.

  Phoenix Academy offered her an escape, but it was already three, and they weren't here. Had she dreamed it all? Was it a mistake, a prank? No, she couldn't give up now, not when she was so close.

  Father snorted. His weathered hands were crossed over a faded shirt that had seen better days. With his short thumb, he pushed the threadbare curtain open for a moment. "Nobody out there. Where's that fancy car waiting for you?" He released the curtain, letting it flutter. "We've told you before, girl. Fantasies don't pay the bills." His voice was rough but flat, as though he’d repeated this phrase a hundred times before and could say it in his sleep.

  Eve’s jaw tightened as she met her father's hard stare. "Right, because paying bills is all you’re about," she snapped. She knew better than to voice the truth, that her father did as little work as he could get away with, preferring a week spent dodging debts to a single hour of honest labour. But it stung too much to say that out loud.

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  "Ungrateful brat," her mother muttered under her breath, though not quietly enough for Eve not to hear. "Oh yes, and we’ve done our duty by you," she said with a bitter twist to the words, as though it left a foul taste on her tongue. "High time for you to contribute if you want to stay here..."

  Eve felt a buzz and reached into the pocket of her patched jeans, withdrawing an outdated phone, bulky and with repaired components sticking out. The screen was scratched from years of use.

  She entered a well-practised passcode and scanned the message quickly, her sharp eyes moving fast before her expression shifted to one of quiet relief.

  "Miss Carter, please receive our most profound apologies. We have been delayed by fifteen minutes. Your driver will arrive momentarily."

  She pocketed it again. No need for words. She nodded, once.

  "I’ve been putting money in that jar since I could remember," she said evenly.

  It had started as a game, begging for coins and notes, anything to add. Later, it became courier jobs, racing against time through dingy streets after school hours while other kids played; carefully avoiding the darker trades of drugs or biologics with luck and sharp thinking.

  "But it doesn’t matter," she said, slinging her worn backpack over one shoulder. "I’m leaving, and I won't be coming back."

  "She's still insisting on that fairytale?" Father raised an eyebrow, his face hardening into a closed expression. "The Phoenix Academy, that's not for the likes of us, girl. We're filth, and if we ever try to rise above that... They'll tread us back down right quick."

  Eve didn’t need a lecture. She knew the truth of his words, but she also believed her own version: things weren't all set in stone.

  An almost musical car horn sounded outside.

  "Maybe you are," Eve said. "But I'm not going to be. That's my ride."

  She hesitated; what was the point? "You know, I have a name, but it's not 'girl'. Or 'brat'. You might remember it, since you gave it to me." Her voice lowered to a whisper. "Or so you say." Sometimes, it was hard to believe they were family, though about that, she truly could afford no fantasies. "Not like you've said it in years."

  "If you walk out of this house you better go to Flutters," Mother said sharply, her voice cracking just a little as she clung to the edge of her chair. "If you leave now... if you take one step outside... Don’t expect us to let you back in."

  "Good to know," Eve said, sparing them both a glance that held no warmth. "Goodbye," she said simply. "Father." She hesitated for a moment before adding, with no small amount of irony, "Mother." There was nothing left here for her, no point in looking back.

  Outside, two women waited. The car looked out of place: a rose in the wilderness, a gleaming spot of luxurious power in the urban dust.

  Best to remember roses have thorns.