I rolled over in bed, not wanting to open my eyes to the morning light peeking through the curtains. College life is such a drag - classes, lectures, homework, you name it. And having to work two jobs to pay rent and buy food just makes it even worse.

I sighed before finally opening my eyes and gazing up at the ceiling over my small twin bed. If I arrive late once more to Dr. Oakley's chemistry class, that cranky old guy will completely lose it. He's held a grudge against me since I dozed off once after working a double shift at the diner.

Groaning, I shoved back the thin covers and swung my legs over the side of the bed. My bare feet hit the cold hardwood floor with a soft thump. I stretched my arms high over my head, back arching. A startlingly loud pop came from my spine, and I winced. 

"I'm way too young to feel this old."

I leaned forward, running my fingers through my messy bedhead hair. Just another day of the same old routine. Suffer through chem, then English class, then waitressing tonight. Easy peasy, right? Everything's been so hard since the accident.

I felt that familiar tightness in my throat as I thought about it, that awful ache in my chest returning. I quickly pushed it down like usual and got up to start getting ready. Maybe going through my normal morning would distract me. I pushed myself up and walked slowly to the small bathroom to start getting ready

.

The warm shower didn't do much against the cold that had seeped into my bones. I just stood under the water, staring blankly at the tiled wall as memories came flooding back unbidden.

Road trips in Dad's old Jeep Wrangler, watching him change a tire or check the oil on that troublesome engine. Mom's soft laughs from the front seat as she gently teased us both, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

My eyes burned, and I blinked hard, forcing those memories away. It's been over a year now. I have to stop torturing myself like this every morning. But the wound still feels so raw, like they died yesterday instead of fourteen never-ending months ago.

Shaking my head, I quickly finished up and dried off. After brushing my teeth, I wrapped the towel around myself and went back into the main room. My tiny apartment doesn't have much—just a bed, desk, and dresser crammed together. But at least the rent is decent.

Well, decent for living near Briarmere's campus, at least. The tuition itself is definitely not cheap. I can only afford to go here because of the financial aid I get. But I have to keep my GPA up and work campus jobs plus other part-time gigs to cover living costs.

Juggling classes, bills, and enough sleep to function is always an uphill battle. The three are pretty much impossible to balance every single day.

I threw on some old jeans, a Briarmere t-shirt and a hoodie. No point in makeup or doing my hair - I only got like 5 hours of crappy sleep, and no amount of concealer can cover these bags under my eyes. Instead, I grabbed my glasses from the nightstand and put them on, my blurry morning vision finally clearing up.

Then I laced up my trusty sneakers, shrugged on a warm sweater, and slung my backpack filled with books and notebooks onto my back. That familiar, comforting weight settled between my shoulders. After doing one last check to make sure I had everything, I grabbed my phone and earbuds and headed for the door.

I could hear my boots thudding down the steps as I left my apartment building. Stepping outside, I stopped for a sec to let my eyes adjust to the faint morning sunlight filtering between the buildings. Briarmere is right in the middle of town, only a couple miles from where I'm staying.

I made my way over to the beat-up, old blue Jeep parked in my designated spot. I got the hand-me-down 4x4 as a "gift" my senior year after the accident. My parents had planned to buy me a nice, safe sedan for college. But then their business went under, and the only thing I ended up with was Dad's old Wrangler, which he'd fixed up.

I remember when Dad would get back from his work trips. He'd burst through the door, face tired but eyes bright, dropping his suitcase by the entrance to sweep me up in a huge bear hug, spinning me around while I giggled.

"Hey there, kiddo," he'd say, ruffling my hair. "I missed you." Then he'd flop down on the couch, exhausted but content, and regale me with stories of his adventures while Mom made his favorite meal. Those were the best times, just me and Dad, talking and laughing about everything and nothing.

I ran my finger along the Jeep's worn exterior, taking a deep breath to compose myself. Stay tough, Ems. That's what Dad would've wanted.

I could practically hear his gruff voice in my head, saying "Don't waste time feeling sorry for yourself, kid. We raised you better than that."

Blinking hard to clear the stinging from my eyes, I unlocked the Jeep's door and tossed my backpack onto the passenger seat before climbing in behind the wheel. The old beast roared to life with a throaty growl, making a bittersweet smile tug at my lips.

"Alright, Rebel, let's get this show on the road."

I've always been one for nicknaming things. But if any thing earned its rebel name, it's this stubborn old Jeep, surviving against all odds. I pulled out of the lot and merged into the early morning traffic.

The commute to campus takes about an hour. I stared out the windshield, not registering the passing storefronts or the few people out walking. My mind was in a happier time, memories playing out like vintage film reels, no matter how hard I tried to stay present. That's just how it is these days.

Mom and Dad are bickering playfully over the radio stations, quoting lines from their favorite John Wayne flicks back and forth. Me pretending to gag from the backseat until Dad joked about dropping me off at the next truck stop, all of us cracking up. Moments of joy and contentment are what I dwell on the most lately. That, and the endless, gnawing what-ifs.

What if they had just cancelled that business trip at the last minute? Rescheduled it for another day instead? Taken a different route? There are so many tiny decisions that could have prevented the shitstorm I'm living in now.

 I parked near the science building, killing the Jeep's engine but staying still as tears blurred my vision. My parents sacrificed so much to support my dream of getting this education. I owe it to them to keep going, even though it feels like climbing a mountain every single day.

Gripping the steering wheel, I closed my eyes and took some steady breaths. No crying today. There'd be time for that later, after my shift, when I could collapse back into bed, emotionally and physically drained. For now, I needed to be the student they believed I could be. 

Just keep swimming, right?