Chapter 1
Emily's POV
I was awake before the alarm even buzzed. Again.
The early morning light crept lazily through the blinds, casting gold stripes across the ceiling. It looked peaceful—unlike how it felt inside me. I didn't even remember what peaceful really meant anymore.
I just lay there, curled under my blanket, eyes open, heart calm but heavy. Sleep was like a guest who didn't really like me. It came, sure, but not for long. It never stayed.
When I finally sat up, the air in my room was cool against my skin. My phone read 5:32 AM. Too early to be awake, too late to fall back asleep. The same thing, every morning.
I moved quietly to the wardrobe and opened it without flipping on the light. Habit. I didn't like waking up the house, especially not *him*. My hands found clothes without effort—an oversized beige sweater that made me feel smaller, safer, and my black pleated skirt. I pulled on some sheer tights, grabbed my white sneakers, and sat at the edge of the bed to put them on, slowly.
After braiding my hair over one shoulder and glossing my lips just enough, I glanced at the cracked mirror.
Still here.
The hallway downstairs creaked like always. I moved like a shadow past his door. Didn't breathe too loud. Didn't make eye contact with the house itself. Just grabbed a granola bar and slipped out the door.
The air outside was cold but soft. And the walk to school—the only part of my day that felt mine.
I liked the quiet. The emptiness. No expectations, no conversations I didn't want to have. Just the sound of my sneakers on the pavement and the occasional bird that never quite sounded like it belonged here.
I thought of my mom and dad. Not together—my dad died before I ever really got to know him. Then mom remarried. Then she died too. Sometimes I imagined what they'd say if they saw how I was living now. If they'd be proud or angry or just heartbroken.
I shook the thought away as I neared the gates. The school buzzed faintly in the distance.
"Emily!" Lena's voice pulled me back.
She was already there, arms folded, pretending to be annoyed that I'd beat her again.
"You're getting predictable," she teased.
I gave her a half-smile. "Or maybe you're getting slow."
We walked in together, her arm looped through mine, chattering about some party she went to without me. I laughed when she expected me to, nodded when needed—but mostly, I just listened. It was easier that way.
And then came Mark.
He was hard to miss. Varsity jacket, messy hair, easy smile that people seemed to trust without question.
"Hey, babe," he said, kissing my cheek before I could even respond.
"Hey," I replied quietly.
He fell into step beside me and Lena, walking me toward first period. Lena disappeared somewhere mid-hallway with a sly look, and Mark didn't miss a beat.
"You gonna sit with us at lunch today?" he asked. His tone was casual, but I knew him well enough to hear the hope underneath.
"Maybe," I said. "I've got some reading to catch up on."
"You *always* have reading."
I turned to him and kissed him softly. "I'll think about it."
He grinned, satisfied. "That's a yes."
At my classroom door, he leaned in, gave me a forehead kiss, and walked off like he hadn't just completely twisted my stomach into knots. I exhaled, pushed open the door, and stepped into the part of my day that felt the most... routine.
Classes blurred.
Literature, where the teacher talked about metaphors and I pretended I wasn't a walking one. Calculus, where the numbers made more sense than people. Chemistry, where I counted minutes more than molecules.
I wasn't top of the class, but I wasn't failing either. I existed somewhere in the safe middle—like most of my life.
At lunch, Lena and I found our usual spot under the old tree in the back. Mark texted once. I didn't reply.
"You sure you don't wanna join him today?" Lena asked between bites of her sandwich.
I shrugged. "Needed some quiet."
She looked at me, like she wanted to say something else, but didn't.
The rest of the day passed in silence and low voices. I avoided too much eye contact with teachers, gave answers just enough to seem present.
When the bell rang for the final period, I hesitated. I'd promised Mark I'd come watch his practice. My brain reminded me of the risk. The timing. *Him*. But Mark's smile had lingered in my mind all day, like a tug on a string I didn't want to cut.
So I went.
The bleachers were nearly empty when I got there. I sat in the middle row and wrapped my arms around my knees, watching Mark run drills, pass the ball, shout plays. He looked... free. I envied that.
After the final whistle, he jogged over to me, sweaty and flushed.
"You stayed," he said, breathless.
I smiled. "Told you I would."
He kissed me. Longer this time. Like he really meant it.
"Let me drive you home."
I hesitated, but nodded.
The silence in the car was deafening. Not awkward — just heavy. Mark drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as we neared my street, humming something under his breath. I wasn't really listening. My mind had already begun preparing for what was waiting for me behind that peeling blue door.
"Hey," he said, pulling the car into park. "Text me later, okay?"
I nodded, forcing a smile. "Sure. Thanks for the ride."
He leaned over, brushed his lips against mine — soft, sweet, almost gentle. I kissed him back just long enough to keep the mood from changing. Then I grabbed my backpack and got out before he could say anything else.
The second the door closed, the warmth faded.
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