Emma's POV

When I woke up, there was blood crusted around my nose and lips, and a little on my chin. There were also a few drops on my shirt. That was my first reminder of what happened earlier. I had to take a deep breath, several of them, to clear my mind and lock up all those memories in a little safe in my mind. I sat up on the bed, holding my head with one hand. I could feel the blood pulsing through me, and it hurt. My whole body was sore, and even though I couldn't see my legs through my jeans, I knew I had bruises on my thighs. I could feel them. My scalp was also a little sensitive, probably from all the hair pulling I did during my tantrum.

And I was so tired. So bleeping tired. What did I do to you to deserve this?! I thought, raising my head to look at the ceiling. I groaned, and found that my throat had not escaped my tantrum unharmed. The sound that came out of my mouth was a croaking sound, with a grating edge that scraped both my throat and my ears. I fell back onto the bed, closing my eyes. I could feel the exhaustion of my body dragging my bones down, but I knew that sleep would not return to me, as much as I wanted it to. Sleep made everything better, because for a few blessed, blissful hours, you don't have to think. Your brain gets to take a lunch break, and you get to watch a little mini movie with a horrible plot that doesn't always make sense while your brain's gone. But as much as my body begged for it, my mind would not take a break, and so sleep would not come.

I opened my eyes, and stared at the blank white ceiling. Nothing to make little patterns with. Boring. Much like my mother. Speaking of my mother, where was she? Was she still at work? To answer that question, I rolled over, careful to keep my bloody nose, face, and shirt from coming into contact with the embroidered comforter. Once I was on my stomach, my chest held up off the blanket, I pulled myself forward so I could see the digital clock's red numbers. Just past three. So I'd slept for roughly three hours, and my mother wouldn't be home for another two. That should be plenty of time to get myself fixed up, right?

That little pessimistic voice in the back of my head whispered, No one can fix you. You're forever broken. And no one wants a broken toy.

I agreed with that voice, but I couldn't leave myself like this. I had to wash the blood off my face, out of my shirt. Fix my face so it didn't look like I'd just bawled my eyes out. Fix the bruises, see how much my damage my hair has suffered. Make the broken toy look like it might still work. It seemed like a shower was the first order of business. My shirt could wait an hour or so, it only had a few blood drops on it. Oh, yeah, some cough drops for my throat would also be nice.

Rolling over once more so I'm on my back, I was perched on the edge of my mother's bed. I moved my left leg off the bed onto the ground, and then my right. First I sat up, and then I stood, slowly so as to avoid a dizzy spell. I looked around the room, full of cute little knick knacks that my mother collected over the years. I saw a bunny rabit dressed in a pink dress with a pink bow on her left ear, and my heart ached. I had won that doll from some game at a carnival when I was little, maybe three or four, and I'd given it to my mom as a thank-you present for being my mom. I didn't think she had kept it. Or maybe she'd lost it, which my mother sometimes did. I myself had almost forgotten about it. I missed that time, that time when I was a little kid and nothing in the world could bother me. When my mother was my best friend. School changed that. And so did growing up.

Shaking my head to clear it, I walked on surprisingly steady feet to the door and into the main hall. I rounded the bend and climbed up the stairs, feeling my sore muscles stretch with every movement. I found it was bearable though, and made it up the stairs without too much pain. Once I was in the bathroom, clothes in a pile by the door, I the water as hot as it could go. However, upon stepping in, I quickly lowered the temperature to a less scalding temperature. I stood under the warm water, feeling it run down my body. I could feel the tension leave my body, and I imagined it going down the drain along with the blood that I'd washed from my face.

In the shower, I got the closest to relaxed I'd been in what feels like ages. But of course, all good things must come to an end, and before too long, the water turned cold. I took the hint, and climbed back out of the shower. I the dehumidifier, and wrapped myself in a towel. I tried to focus on what I had to do next, but I suddenly remembered my phone. I wondered if anyone had texted me, and I got a horrible idea in my head. What if Billy had given out my number? I saw that happen on a TV show once, and I hoped with all my might that that wasn't what had happened. To calm my worries, I padded downstairs carefully, and looked for my phone.

I found it on the floor near my backpack in front of the front door. I picked it up and tried not to get any residual water from my hands onto the screen. I unlocked it, and checked my messages. I heaved a big sigh of relief when I saw that I only had three messages. Two were from Kevin, asking how I was handling this and if I was ok. The last one was from Billy. It said,

Now you're gonna know the worst these kids can throw at you! ;-)

I deleted that message, and responded to Kevin, telling him I was doing ok. Then I picked up my backpack, and carried it up with me to my room. I changed into a slouchy sweater that was dark blue around the shoulders and got whiter the lower it went, and washed out skinny jeans with Star Wars slippers. Then I lay down on my bed, cuddled up under the blankets, leaning my backpack against the footboard of the bed. My phone buzzed. I checked to see who it was. Kevin had messaged me again.

Ok, good. Can you call me?
Em, I was really scared! When I couldn't find you in the usual spots I thought some of Billy's guy friends had done something to you!

My heart warmed a little with Kevin's concern, so I typed out a quick ok, and pressed his contact button to call him. I held the phone up to my ear, and waited all of two seconds for Kevin to pick up.

"Hey Emma!" Kevin said breathlessly when he answered. "I'm so sorry this happened! I feel so bad, because I feel like if I'd been there when you confronted him before..."

"If you did that," I croaked, but I was pleased to notice that my voice had gotten a little bit better, "then he probably would've mentioned your name, and then you'd be getting too."

"Not as much as you!" Kevin pointed out. "Emma what happened to your voice?!"

"I screamed a lot." I said.

"Em..." I could feel Kevin restraining himself from rolling his eyes, even though I couldn't see him.

"Kevin, I'm fine now. I cleaned up most of the evidence that I'd thrown any sort of tantrum, and I feel much better after my shower." I tried to reassure him.

"No, you may be fine now, but as soon as you go back to school... You know what's gonna happen!" Kevin said.

"There's an easy solution to that. Not go to school." I tried to sound like I thought that would work, but we both knew that would never happen.

"Your mom will never let you stay home." Kevin said what we both knew.

"She's not the boss. I am." I said, coloring my tone with a conviction I thought sounded fake.

"That act is gonna bite you in the sooner or later." Kevin smiled, and I knew that he, at least, would have my back. I would get through this. Just like I'd been doing all my life.
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Ok guys! Yay, I updated when I said I was going to! We're making progress! Now I just need to do that, and make the chapters longer too...
Next chapter, I'll be going back to present-day Emma. Her past story thing is over, for now.
Can I get at least two comments? Please? They make me happy!
<3 See you Tuesday!