Emily #freementalillness #literasia

t w e n t y

Emily returned to school weeks later. The year was almost over, and she had lots of catching up to do.

She went around her classrooms, collecting make up work and giving various excuses for her absence, never disclosing the real reason.

They almost wouldn't let her out of the hospital. She'd lost so much weight that they had to put a tube down her throat. The incisions on her arms were grotesque and would leave scars to last a lifetime. They got infected during her stay and led to nights of fever and discomfort. Emily would've preferred death over feeling like that again.

It was ultimately her parents that fought to let her out. She would be so behind in school, they argued. She's fine, they argued.

But not once did they visit her.

Emily is sort of glad they didn't.

Nobody asked her where she'd been. They didn't notice, they didn't care. Even Ava gave up. Good riddance, Emily thought. Who needs a backstabbing liar as a friend anyways? She had Walter.

Emily stopped dead in her tracks when she realized she didn't have him. She told him to move on. She honestly didn't think she'd make it out of the hospital.

She'd be alright somehow. She's never really needed friends before. What's the difference this time?

Emily briskly walked to chef's class, a small safe haven from the world. She felt the anxiety leave her immediately as she settled back into her station. Frowning, she realized that Walter wasn't there. It wasn't until she heard his familiar laugh that she realized- he was a backstabbing friend too.

He was joking around with her sworn enemy Samantha Costello and cooking, of all things, macarons. Chef walked up moments later and nodded appreciatively at Samantha.

"Finally, someone has tamed the fool." She muttered, feasting on the French treat. "Extra credit. You're going to Gershow."

Emily broke down inside, though there wasn't much left unbroken in the first place. It was one of the only things she'd wanted in life. And it was gone.

She saw Samantha smirking at her and winking slyly as Walter slung his arm over her shoulder and she leaned her head on him.

Whenever Walter did that, Emily shoved his arm off. So she guessed it made sense that he chose a friend who could actually be touched without freaking out. But Samantha Costello? Her nemesis? That was low.

Walter didn't glance at Emily the entire time they were in class. And she felt that it was better like that.

But as class ended, Emily heard her voice being called. It was Walter.

"Hey. Em." He looked the same as always, that stupid denim jacket over one shoulder because it was too hot to wear, but he still wanted to make a fashion statement nonetheless. Walter's signature grin has morphed into a sloppy smile.

"Hi." Emily looked anywhere but at his face.

"I hope you're well," he said. Looking as if he had more to say, Walter opened and shut his mouth and left, dismissing whatever words had formed in his mind, disappearing into the stream of people leaving for lunch. Soon, Emily was the only one lingering behind the crowd's aftermath, wondering what the tight feeling in her chest was.

The rest of the day continued as dreadfully as culinary arts had, and Emily went home in a stupor. As per usual, her parents were gone. They were rarely home now, because more time spent here meant more time arguing.

Emily worked on homework with her headphones in. Here was another constant to take comfort in. Every beat of the music was timed, every lyric would be unchanged. It wouldn't matter how worn out the track got from months of replay– she still knew every cue and hook and would be able to predict every guitar riff.

This was the kind of comfort that Emily felt she could never find in a person. They were variable and unpredictable, unlike the memorized melodies of her favorite songs. Even her math homework was more dependable than people would ever be. That was just sad.

Emily fell asleep on her unfinished Calculus homework, and didn't notice her mother come into the room late at night to shut off the light and cover her with a blanket, replacing the textbook with a pillow.

"I'm sorry..." Her mother pursed her lips, sealing away any unutterable sentiments and descended the stairs after a last look at Emily's exhausted frame. She tightened the scarf around her neck and picked up her purse, locking the door with a gentle click as she made off into the night.

Things should have been different. Her mother shouldn't have been obstinate and left for days on end. Her father shouldn't have drank so much and nurtured his pride. Her parents probably should never have had Emily.

It was cruel to bring an innocent being into the midst of a blaze that had nothing to do with her. Why did Emily have to break and burn in the flames? Why did Emily have to crumble and turn to dust?

Why hadn't there been any rain to drown out the fire for sixteen years?