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<span class="mu-i">That he's the only reason why bills are being paid. That it's just one of the many <span class="mu-s">obligations</span> he's taken upon himself as the man of the house.</span>
<span class="mu-i">Drip, drip. Drip, drip.</span>
<span class="mu-i">It's funny, though. Only two days ago, you overheard your dad talking to one of your uncles over the phone.</span>
<span class="mu-i">He was begging your uncle for another loan. It wasn't even the first time he asked him. You lost count of how many times he begged some distant family member for money.</span>
<span class="mu-i">The stew is done cooking. You serve it to the ravenous horde at the table. It's slop, but it's cheap and good enough to appease them for another day.</span>
<span class="mu-i">Your mother comes out of her room to eat at the table with your father. You know you're going to have to clean the dishes once they're done.</span>
<span class="mu-i">You don't even bother grabbing something to eat. You're not hungry, and besides, you probably have something else to tend to. You already know someone's going to start complaining about the food you tirelessly worked on.</span>
<span class="mu-i">Like they have the right to complain. Whatever. You excuse yourself; you have to clean a bedroom or something. You'll eat later.</span>
<span class="mu-i">Drip, drip. Pitter-patter.</span>
<span class="mu-i">It's late. The clock says it's around 12 AM right now. Everyone has already gone to bed...except for you. This is the one time of the day where you're allowed a break. Where no one is around to chew you out for not trying hard enough.</span>
<span class="mu-i">You stare blankly at the powered-off TV. You wouldn't even dare to think about turning it on. You just can't think of anything else to stare at.</span>
<span class="mu-i">Pitter-patter. Drip, drip.</span>
<span class="mu-i">You're slurping down a spoonful of ice-cold stew. It tastes awful now, but whatever, you need something on your stomach.</span>
<span class="mu-i">A thought crosses your mind. An awful, awful thought. What if you just...left? It wouldn't even be that hard. You can pack a bag with clothes and whatever cash you saved up, and...you can just leave.</span>
<span class="mu-i">No one would even hear you moving around. The rain would drown out any noise you made. You could leave. You could do literally whatever you want with your life.</span>
<span class="mu-i">A grim smile crosses your face. It serves them right. They don't deserve you; you've done so much to provide for this family, and what? What have they done for you?</span>
<span class="mu-i">The smile fades upon realizing what leaving would actually entail. Not for you, no no, you'd be fine. But for your family.</span>
<span class="mu-i">Your siblings are only being taken care of because you're there to watch over them. Your mother is clearly not fully there anymore, and seeing you leave? That might just cause her mind to decay even more. Your father?</span>
<span class="mu-i">God knows what that man would do when he realizes you left. He'd take it out on someone. Your mother, your siblings, your other family members, and the people he works with.</span>
<span class="mu-i">If you leave, you're damning everyone here. Your father certainly can't take care of the family. Your mother? Oh, that poor, poor woman.</span>
