A/N: As you may have seen from my previous post, I promised a new chapter promptly after that, but it took longer than I expected. Other than some personal reasons (like work, as writing isn't my only focus), I also had to write and edit the coming chapters because I don't wanna shortchange you with half-assed updates. I hope that's okay with you guys. Happy reading!
P.S. Because IHW is all about diversity and acceptance, I wanna give a shout out to RachaelMole and her #Visible campaign and Wattpad's lgbt and DiverseFiction accounts, both hosting contests and giving tips on all things diverse and welcoming. If you're a massive supporter of similar causes, then you might wanna follow them.
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❝I always wanted to be something better.
I always wanted to shine.
And now I know I can't deny my nature
cause I got somethin' to hide.
I got a secret.❞
- Secret, Angel Snow
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TWELVE
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By now Luke was used to the melancholy in Emma's voice; it was subtle, but it was there. It coats each of her stories in nostalgia, as If they were personal experiences that she witnessed or went through somehow. He shook his head a few times to rid himself of those thoughts. Lately, they plagued him, keeping him up more than his midterms. He knew he needed answers.
After all, wasn't he the writer?
Wasn't he supposed to watch her every move and find out the story that hid there? That was the problem though. It stopped being the story a few weeks ago; it's now her story.
It's Emma's story.
Those chilling narratives were tied back to a petite, 20-something brunette whose entire life sat on her back. What answer was he gonna get other than a bad one?
"Yow, she's starting, man," T hollered from the other side of the room. "You coming?"
"Yeah," was all he said before walking over to them. This had now become a ritual in the art center. They'd clean up, then tell stories, paint then tell stories, tutor then tell stories. Stories brought these kids, and yes our hero, Luke, together. They weren't just Emma's too. Last week, this kid, Ashley, read from a small notebook how she spent half her Thanksgiving dinner cursing at the food she 'can't' eat and the rest, locked in the bathroom. The day after that, Deshawn casually told everyone that he had been sleeping on one of the couches in the barely heated center because he came home to an eviction notice. He had nowhere else to go.
After weeks of listening to Emma's unfiltered stories, they were gaining the courage to tell their own. She was making a difference, and that made Luke smile - a real one.
His thoughts were cut short by that now familiar voice.
"One, two, three...
He tried to keep his eyes shut, but once in a while they'd open to see the bright afternoon sky.
YOU ARE READING
In Her Words
General Fiction"When he first heard her, he knew. She was his bestseller." Before there were great stories, there were only words. Luke's were smart and eloquent but hollow. It was nothing like Emma's story, bleak and awkward, but honest to a fault. This is a comi...
