The school day had been hell.
Valerie had thought being stuck in Tim’s skinny, dirt-poor body was bad enough, but having to act like him? That was something else entirely.
She had no control.
It was like her body moved on its own, laughing at dumb jokes, joking with Tim’s loser friends, playing the part of the good little poor kid who never caused trouble.
She cringed inside the entire time, screaming in frustration, but no one could hear it. She smiled when she should have scowled. She fist-bumped Tim’s idiot friends when she wanted to shove them away. She spoke in that annoying, upbeat tone Tim always used instead of spitting venom like she wanted to.
And worst of all? She couldn’t stop it.
The moment she was around others—people who knew Tim—something clicked inside her, some autopilot that forced her to behave exactly as Tim would.
She was still herself in her head, fully aware of every humiliating second of it, but her mouth and body weren’t her own anymore.
And now she was home.
Or rather, Tim’s home.
It was a complete dump.
The second she stepped inside, the stench of sweat and stale air hit her. The floor was covered in junk—clothes, empty food containers, school papers, trash. The walls were cracked, the lights dim and flickering, and there was barely any furniture. The place was tiny, and from what she had seen outside, it was surrounded by even worse houses, like a little pocket of misery in the middle of the city.
Her stomach twisted. People actually live like this?
Then, before she could even take another step—
"TIM!"
A small body slammed into her legs, tackling her to the floor.
Valerie wanted to shove the brat off. She wanted to snap at him, tell him to get off her, to stop touching her, to leave her alone.
But she couldn't.
Instead, she laughed. She smiled. She ruffled the boy’s messy hair like he was the most precious thing in the world.
"Hey, buddy!" her voice chirped, way too cheerful, way too warm.
No, no, no!
She was stuck again.
Jacob—Tim’s little brother—giggled, climbing off her, his little face beaming with joy. He was practically half-naked, just a pair of boxer shorts, running around like some little jungle boy.
Valerie, in her head, wanted to scream.
But outwardly? She was crouching down, resting a hand on his shoulder, smiling like she cared.
“How was school, squirt?” she asked in that same goddamn Tim voice.
Jacob launched into a hyperactive rant, talking way too fast, jumping from one topic to another, going on and on about nonsense.
And Valerie just… listened.
She nodded. She laughed at the right moments. She even asked follow-up questions.
This isn’t me. This isn’t me. This isn’t me!
But she couldn’t stop.
She played the role perfectly. Every reaction, every movement, every little head tilt and affectionate pat on Jacob’s back—all of it was automatic, completely beyond her control.
Jacob looked up at her with big, bright eyes, adoring her.
And she hated it.
She felt like she was being crushed under the weight of this forced kindness, this fake bond.
Then—
“Food time?” Jacob asked, bouncing on his toes.
Valerie’s body moved before she could stop it.
“Yeah, buddy, let’s see what we’ve got,” she heard herself say.
She walked to the fridge, opened it, and barely kept herself from gagging at the sight. It was nearly empty—just a few plastic containers of leftover food, some milk, and what looked like half a sandwich in a plastic bag.
No fresh vegetables. No fancy meals. No real food.
Her hand automatically grabbed a container, and she threw it in the microwave without hesitation.
Jacob bounced beside her, excited for whatever disgusting meal this was.
Why is he so happy? she thought bitterly. Look at this place. Look at what he eats. Look at how he lives!
And yet, the kid looked like he had everything he ever wanted.
Valerie wanted to feel disgusted. She wanted to sneer at him, to call him pathetic.
But she couldn’t.
Instead, she rubbed his hair again, laughing as he cheered when the microwave beeped.
She plated their food, sat with him on the couch, and even let him cuddle up beside her while they ate.
It was all so wrong.
She hated every second of it.
And she couldn’t stop it.
Even when Jacob finished eating, curling up beside her, half-asleep, Valerie felt her body move again.
She wrapped an arm around him. Held him close. Rubbed his back.
She even whispered, “Sleep tight, buddy.”
WHAT THE HELL IS THIS!?
It took everything in her to keep from completely panicking.
She needed to get away from him, needed to be alone.
Slowly, carefully, she pulled herself away from Jacob and stood up. The kid didn’t even stir, just nuzzled into the couch and kept sleeping.
Valerie took a shaky breath and walked down the narrow hall, opening the door to—
Tim’s room.
She froze.
It wasn’t a room.
It was a tiny box.
A single bed against the wall, a tiny desk, a cracked window.
And—
Another bed.
Smaller. Covered in superhero blankets.
Valerie’s stomach dropped.
No. No way.
She shared a room with Jacob.
She wouldn’t have a single second to herself.
Her fists clenched, her breath coming out shaky as she stepped inside and shut the door.
Finally, finally, she was alone.
And the second she was, it was like a switch flipped.
Her fake smile vanished. Her shoulders hunched. Her fingers dug into her arms as she let out a choked, shuddering breath.
“Fucking hell,” she muttered under her breath.
She turned in a slow circle, taking it all in, the suffocating smallness of it.
The peeling paint. The single, flickering light bulb. The fact that she had no privacy.
This was her life for a month.
A tiny, miserable room. A shared bed with a seven-year-old. No space. No escape.
No control.
She was trapped.
And the worst part?
She knew that tomorrow, and every day after, the second she walked out of this room and saw Jacob again—
She would smile.
She would laugh.
She would play the perfect brother.
And there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.