Chapter 3: The First Step
The city was alive with the hum of early morning activity as Janice walked through the bustling streets. The sun had just begun to rise, casting a golden glow over the buildings and painting the sky in hues of pink and orange. For the first time in what felt like forever, Janice felt a sense of purpose. She had no plan, no destination, but she was determined to carve out a new life for herself.
Her first priority was finding a place to stay. She couldn’t keep wandering the streets aimlessly. She needed shelter, a safe space where she could gather her thoughts and plan her next steps. She had a little cash tucked away in her pocket—money she had saved from odd jobs she’d done in secret over the years. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to get her through the next few days.
Janice spotted a small, modest inn tucked between two larger buildings. The sign above the door read The Rosewood Inn. It wasn’t fancy, but it looked clean and affordable. She pushed the door open and stepped inside, the bell above the door jingling softly.
A middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a warm smile stood behind the counter. She looked up as Janice approached. “Good morning, dear. How can I help you?”
“I’d like a room, please,” Janice said, her voice steady despite the exhaustion weighing her down. “Just for a few nights.”
The woman nodded, her eyes scanning Janice’s face as if sensing the turmoil beneath her calm exterior. “Of course. We have a small room available on the second floor. It’s simple, but it’s clean and quiet.”
“That’s perfect,” Janice replied, offering a small smile. She handed over the cash, and the woman handed her a key.
“Room 204,” the woman said. “Breakfast is served downstairs from 7 to 9. If you need anything, just let me know. My name is Margaret.”
“Thank you, Margaret,” Janice said, her gratitude genuine. She took the key and made her way up the stairs, her legs heavy with fatigue.
The room was small, as promised, but it was cozy. A single bed sat against one wall, a small desk and chair against the other. A window let in the soft morning light, and Janice felt a sense of relief wash over her. For the first time in what felt like forever, she had a space of her own.
She sat down on the edge of the bed, her body aching from the events of the previous night. The welts on her back still stung, but she pushed the pain aside. She had more pressing matters to attend to.
Janice reached into her pocket and pulled out a small notebook. It was old and worn, the pages filled with sketches and notes—her designs, her ideas, her dreams. She flipped through the pages, her heart aching as she remembered the countless hours she had spent pouring her soul into these creations. And now, her latest design—the one she had worked on tirelessly for the Efrery fashion contest—was in Delilah’s hands.
But Janice refused to let despair take hold. She had lost the design, but she hadn’t lost her talent. She could create something new, something even better. She just needed time and resources.
She opened the notebook to a fresh page and began to sketch. The pencil moved across the paper with a life of its own, her mind buzzing with ideas. She didn’t know how she would make it happen, but she was determined to enter the contest on her own terms. She wouldn’t let Delilah—or anyone else—take this from her.
As she worked, a plan began to form in her mind. She needed money to buy materials, and she needed a way to showcase her designs. She couldn’t rely on her family’s name or resources anymore. She would have to do this on her own.
Janice set the notebook aside and stood up, her resolve firm. She would start by finding a job—any job—to earn enough money to get by. She wasn’t above hard work, and she was willing to do whatever it took to achieve her goals.
She changed into a clean set of clothes, wincing as the fabric brushed against her wounds. She tied her hair back into a neat ponytail and took a deep breath, steeling herself for the day ahead.
Downstairs, Margaret was setting up the breakfast buffet. She looked up as Janice approached. “Good morning, dear. Did you sleep well?”
“Well enough,” Janice replied with a small smile. “Thank you.”
Margaret studied her for a moment, her expression thoughtful. “You look like you’ve been through a lot. If you don’t mind me saying so.”
Janice hesitated, then nodded. “I have. But I’m determined to start over.”
Margaret’s eyes softened. “Well, if you need anything—work, advice, or just someone to talk to—let me know. I’ve been around long enough to know a thing or two about starting over.”
Janice felt a lump form in her throat. She hadn’t expected kindness from a stranger, but it was a welcome relief. “Thank you, Margaret. I might take you up on that.”
After a quick breakfast, Janice stepped out into the morning sunlight, her spirits lifted. She walked through the streets, her eyes scanning the storefronts for help-wanted signs. She wasn’t picky—she would take anything that paid.
Her first stop was a small café on the corner. The smell of freshly baked bread and coffee wafted through the air, and Janice felt a pang of hunger despite having just eaten. She pushed the door open and stepped inside, the bell above the door jingling softly.
A young woman with bright red hair and a friendly smile stood behind the counter. “Good morning! What can I get for you?”
“Actually, I was wondering if you’re hiring,” Janice said, her voice steady. “I’m looking for work.”
The woman’s smile widened. “As a matter of fact, we are. Do you have any experience?”
“I’ve worked in a kitchen before,” Janice said, thinking of the times she had helped the Edwards family’s cooks prepare meals. “I’m a quick learner, and I’m not afraid of hard work.”
The woman nodded. “That’s what we like to hear. I’m Clara, by the way. The owner’s out right now, but I can give you an application. If you fill it out, we can set up an interview.”
“Thank you,” Janice said, feeling a spark of hope. She took the application and found a quiet corner to fill it out. As she wrote, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. This was her first step toward independence, and she was determined to make it count.
By the end of the day, Janice had applied to several places—the café, a bookstore, a small boutique, and even a local library. She didn’t know if any of them would pan out, but she felt a sense of accomplishment just for trying.
As she walked back to the inn that evening, her feet aching and her body weary, Janice felt a sense of hope that she hadn’t felt in years. She had taken the first step toward building a new life, and she was ready to keep going, no matter how hard it got.
She had been broken, but she was not defeated. She was Janice Edwards, and she was ready to take on the world.
And she would. One step at a time.