The house reeked of fish as he sat at the cleaning table in the basement, gutting, chopping and flacking the fish he could keep from the batch he sold. The radio next to him playing an old song from an random station. Mixing the smell of the cigarette he's smoking with the foul smell of the fish guts.

He glanced over his shoulder as he heard the door creaked opened, the light from the kitchen coming down the stairs. Seeing your feet slowly decline the steps.

"Im almost done, Pearl. Just need to clean most of them to be sold at the markets."

Money has been tight, selling the extra fish he would catch to save. With your help of your hand made clothes and ctafts, things been almost manageable. But the constant fear of the land owner coming back not just to collect the last payments to hand over the papers to have the land in your names, but his constant sexual advances towards you.