Lonely Hearts

Chapter twelve: Emma

Don't waste your time waiting for him.

I took a deep breath and continued running, trying not to think of him but just like I was running with nowhere to go, my mind kept circling back to him. 

Don't listen to him anymore. He's not worth it.

I headed to the showers and stood under the warm water, allowing the cold to be driven out of me.

Once I dried myself off and changed, I stepped out into the sunlight. I wasn't going to waste my time on him anymore.

That didn't stop tears beading my eyelashes. I wiped them away furiously. Why weren't we good enough for him? Loving enough? Enough?

"Emma?" 

I spun around to see Linda again and wiped away the stubborn tears that still clung to my cheeks. 

"Are you stalking me now?" I asked, with a smile. 

She chuckled. "Maybe." 

She fell into step beside me and took my hand before I realised what she was doing. I resisted the urge to snatch it away. 

"What's the matter, Princess?" She asked. 

I scowled at the nickname before shrugging. 

"No, no." She said with a smile. "Tell your problems to Auntie Linda." 

I pretended to lock my mouth and throw away the key. She chuckled and pretended to flourish a new key before unlocking my mouth. It stayed resolutely shut until she chuckled again and leaned forwards to kiss me, her lips felt so soft against mine and my mouth popped open in surprise and she pulled away. 

"Knew that would work." She giggled. "What's the matter?" 

"I hate my brother." 

It felt strange saying the words out loud. I had never admitted that to anyone. Not even myself. 

"No you don't." Linda said. 

I glared at her. "How would you know?" 

"Because you still talk about him. You still think about him." 

"I'm thinking about how much I hate him right now." 

"You're still thinking about him. If you truly hated him, you wouldn't think about him at all." 

"Believe me, that's what I'm trying to do." 

"But it's not working is it?" 

I frowned because she was right. 

"So what do you think?" I asked, like she knew what I was feeling better than I did.

"I think you love him. You're just scared to." 

It was so close to the truth it was scary. I scowled. 

"You don't know anything." I told her. 

She shrugged. "If you say so." 

We walked along in silence and I mulled over what she had said. 

I thought about the way my heart seemed to stop whilst the phone rang. How Max had clung to my hand in eager anticipation as we waited for him to pick up. The searing anger that bubbled the longer it rang. The overwhelming frustration when the receptionist told us he was currently unavailable. Just like he had been all our lives. Just like he would always be. Always there. Always controlling us and giving us hope. Always just out of reach. Always hiding. 

Linda was right. I was scared. I was scared to love him. To put my trust in him. To believe in him. I was scared because he would let us down again. He had always let us down. 

And he always would. 

~*~

"Emma? Are you alright?" Louis asked, standing in the thresholds of my door until I signalled for him to come in. 

"I'm fine." I said, smiling brightly as if I hadn't been crying a couple of minutes before. 

Louis wasn't stupid. 

"Mon Cherié, what's the matter?" He asked, softly. 

He came into the room and sat on the bed, being careful to leave enough of a space between us. 

He looked at me with such concern and love that I burst into tears again, surprising both of us. I hadn't cried in front of him once in three years. He was quiet and calm, handing me some tissues and giving me time to compose myself before smiling softly. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked. 

I opened my mouth to tell him I was fine but what came out instead was

"I hate him." 

He didn't even blink. 

"Why?" He asked, gently, not asking who I meant. Maybe he already knew.

"He keeps breaking his promises." I murmured. "He told us he would come and get us out of this. He promised he would sort everything out. He said he would keep the family together but he keeps sending us away." 

As I said this, I realised how rude it seemed but Louis didn't seem to notice or care. 

"He's only fifteen, Emma. He's too young to come and help you. He's doing his best to put you in the safest home possible until he's ready to take care of you himself." 

"How do you know?" I asked. 

"He told me." 

That was the first I had heard of this. I blinked. 

"He told you?" I repeated. 

He nodded. "Do you remember when we first came to collect you? And you and Max sat in those little green chairs with your suitcases and her teddy, whilst Lincoln came and introduced himself?" 

Vaguely. 

"How do you remember the colour of the chairs?" I asked. 

"I remember thinking how ugly they were at the time."

I smiled.

"What about when Lincoln introduced himself?" I prompted. 

"He told me he wanted to speak to me alone. Amelié went out and introduced herself to you, and Lincoln stayed with me." He stopped for a minute, looking deep in thought. "The kid loves you very much." He said, gently. 

Does he?

"Yes he does." 

I hadn't realised I had spoken aloud, I felt my face grow warm. 

"He looked me dead in the eye and said if I ever did anything to hurt you, he would walk through hell to find me." Louis chuckled. "I've never felt so scared of a kid before or since. Then he sat down and he made me promise to take good care of you and to love you like my own." 

"What did you say?" 

He smiled. "I said I already did." 

I sat and thought about that for a minute whilst he continued. 

"He told me to tell you that he loves you very much and he will see you soon. And he made me promise never to bring you back there." 

"And you did." I remembered. 

It had been the first evening, me and Max still shared a bedroom then, and Louis came to say goodnight and he told us Lincoln sends his love. I'd thought he was just saying it to reassure us or to help with the loneliness of the first night. 

"I did." He nodded. 

I was quiet, dwelling over what he had said. 

"When he told me," He added, "I asked the Home if I could foster him too." 

"What did they say?" I asked. 

"They said our home wasn't big enough to deal with him." Louis said. 

"But would you have fostered him?" I asked.  "If you could?" 

"In a heartbeat." He answered. 

I wasn't sure if this made it hurt worse.