Chapter 1...sort of
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Emma stood at the window and gazed at the rain. She couldn't understand how it could be bashed around so much, yet still go back up into the sky only to rain down and be battered around again. She looked at her bruise-covered arm. The bruises were all purple and yellow. Emma flinched at the pain as she touched one of the worst ones, right on the vein on her left wrist. It hurt to move her fingers, but she couldn't tell anyone. They'd only ask questions. Questions she wouldn't be able to answer without revealing her secret. No one must know her secret. Even if she did tell, no one would care anyway.
Emma was torn from her daydreams when she heard the front door open. She heard voices in the hallway. One she recognised as her mother, but she didn't know who's the other voice was. It was male, but not her father. They appeared to be laughing over something. Emma stood up and walked into the hallway. Her mother was holding onto the arm of a tall man. He was about 50 years old, and looked like he was old enough to be Emma's grandfather. Emma could smell the stench of alcohol. It was very strong, almost enough to make someone gag.
"Hi Emma…" Emma's mother's voice was wobbly and giggly. She was drunk. Again.
"Leigh, I'd like you to meet my daughter, Emma." She giggled at the end of her sentence. Leigh smiled.
"Pleased to meet you, Emma." He put out his hand, inviting Emma to shake it. She looked away and grunted. She felt a sting to her cheek.
"Emma, be polite." Emma put her hand to her cheek and looked at Leigh's hand, which was still outstretched.
"Emma, stop thinking about your face or I'll give you something to be upset about."
"Victoria, it's not really necessary…" Leigh cut in.
"Yes it is! My daughter is usually more polite than this. When I tell her to say hello, she says hello." When Emma still didn't make a move to take Leigh's hand, she felt a sting on her other cheek. She cried out in pain. She blinked back tears and took Leigh's hand. She shook it.
"Pleased to meet you." She looked into his eyes. There was a strange sparkle in them. Emma tried to take her hand away, but Leigh wouldn't let go. He was staring at her chest. When he eventually blinked and let go of Emma's hand, she was as red as a sunburned tomato.
"There, that's more like it!" Emma's mother's voice sounded triumphant. Emma looked at her mother and saw a wonky, drunk grin spreading across her face.
"Now, be a good girl and run along and play for a while, while mummy and Leigh take care of some-er-business in mummy and daddy's room." Emma's mother giggled and took Leigh's hand and led him into the bedroom. She closed the door, and Emma could hear her mother giggling still. Leigh laughed as well. Emma walked away. Her legs felt like jelly, and she could feel her lunch start to rise up into her throat. She wondered if her mother would ever stop bringing home guys from a bar like she so often did. As she turned on the television, she decided she wouldn't.
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Chapter 2...sort of
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When her mother emerged, four hours later, she was sober and in a good mood. Emma heard her saying goodbye to Leigh. When she walked into the family room, she had a huge grin on her face. Emma didn't look up from the book she was reading.
"So, what did you think?" Emma knew her mother couldn't care less what she thought.
"Where'd you pick him up from?" Emma still didn't look up.
"Emma, don't give me that. I asked you what you think. Nothing more, nothing less." Her voice was getting louder.
"Do you want to know honestly?"
"Yes."
"I don't like him. I don't like the way you embarrassed me, and I don't understand how you can seeing other guys after dad's only been gone for two months!" Emma looked at her mother icily. She received a stony stare back. She could see the familiar flames of anger rising in her mother's eyes.
"Oh really, is that so? Well, listen to me young lady." Her voice was getting shrill. "I don't like your attitude." Emma's gaze didn't change. Her mother's eyes flashed red with anger. "I don't have to answer to you. I didn't embarrass you. You embarrassed me. How was I supposed to feel? I'd told Leigh how nice you were, and you let me down-" Emma cut in.
"Oh, I see. So it's MY fault now, is it? You make me sick!"
"I HAVEN'T FINISHED!" Emma's mother's face turned red with anger.
"Ever since your father died, I've been very lonely. It's hard to live with someone 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 52 weeks a year for 16 years, and then suddenly bang! They're gone." Emma rolled her eyes.
"So you go out every night, get drunk and bring home some guy to replace dad?" her eyes filled with tears.
"NO! I go out to try and forget my troubles!"
"Mum, alcohol is no cure for that sort of thing." As soon as Emma had exclaimed the last words, she knew she had gone too far.
"HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT?!" she roared.
"I-I'm sorry." Emma stammered.
"HOW DARE YOU?? I EARN MONEY SO THAT YOU CAN EAT AND GO TO SCHOOL EVERYDAY! DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU ARE?" she paused, and Emma wasn't sure if she was supposed to answer or not. She decided it was safer not to.
"I'll tell you." Her mother's voice was somewhat calmer.
"You're an ungrateful little bitch." Emma opened her mouth to say something, but her mother got in first.
"I don't know why I didn't put you up for adoption, like your father wanted to. If it weren't for you, he'd still be alive. He wouldn't have been in that car getting you a birthday present. You killed your father!" the tears in Emma's eyes overflowed.
"That's not true, and you know it, mum. I didn't kill dad; he was hit by a truck WHILE GOING THROUGH A RED LIGHT. It's not my fault. He was breaking the law!" she wiped her eyes.
"But he wouldn't have been in the car if it weren't for your birthday!"
"Mum, he wasn't buying me a present, and you know it. He was buying you cigarettes, because you were too pissed to drive to the shop and get them yourself. If you ever stopped to think, you'd remember that my birthday is in June. Dad died in September. How could he have been buying me a present?" Emma sniffed, and wiped her eyes again.
"What does it matter what he was doing? The point is, he died." Emma's mother was still red in the face.
"No it's not! The point is that you bring home a new guy each week, and dad's only been gone for two months!" Emma started to cry properly.
"STOP BAWLING YOU STUPID LITTLE WIMP!" her mother was clearly disgusted. When Emma didn't stop, her mother saw red. She stepped across the room in three strides, and stood next to Emma, staring at her. Emma eventually looked up at her mother. Her mother raised her hand and brought it down hard onto Emma's face. The sound of the slap echoed around the house. Emma cried out, only to receive another smack, this time over her mouth.
"SHUT UP AND STOP CRYING!" Emma's mother screamed. She thumped Emma again, this time in her right eye. In a matter of seconds it was swollen beyond recognition. Her mother beat her in the stomach. She hit her so hard Emma vomited.
"LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE NOW!" her mother punched her again, this time on her back. Emma jerked forward with the force. She fell to her knees, covering her face with her hands. She felt a squelch as her knees landed in the spew. Her mother proceeded to kick her, hard; anywhere she could land her foot. Emma suffered blows to her back, sides, legs, face, shoulders, arms and every inch of her body. When her mother eventually ran out of energy, she stormed out of the house, yelling to Emma to clean up the blood and vomit from the floor. Emma groaned and fell over, hitting her head on the hard floor. She lay there for the rest of the night, half conscious, and aware of her mother standing in front of her, feet shoulder width apart, yelling at her to bloody well get up and clean up the mess. Emma was having trouble breathing. Her mother realised, and rolled Emma over onto her side. She couldn't have the little bugger dying on her now, could she? What would the courts say?
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Chapter 3...sort of
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When they arrived at the emergency room, Emma was whisked off into a doctor's surgery, while her mother was taken into a room for questioning.
Emma opened her eyes. She was lying in an unfamiliar bed. The whole room was white. "Where am I, in heaven?" she thought as she looked at the white robe she was dressed in. Emma was abruptly aware of a beeping noise near her right ear. She tried to turn over, but was overwhelmed by the pain that tore through her whole body. She couldn't move.
"Emma?" an unfamiliar voice interrupted the steady beeping of the machine next to Emma. She tried to speak, but found it impossible to move her mouth. Instead, she moved her hand, to acknowledge the fact that there was someone talking to her. Her arm felt like an oversized truck had just run over it repeatedly for the past hour or so.
"Ssh. Don't move, just listen, ok?" the person could obviously see the agony that Emma was in. When she didn't move, the speaker took that as a sign that Emma understood.
"Emma, I'm doctor Taylor. Can you remember what happened today?" Emma tried to answer, but found she could only whisper "Yes." And it was hardly understandable. Doctor Taylor obviously understood.
"Can you tell me?" Emma hesitated. With much effort, she replied
"I fell down the stairs." She looked at Doctor Taylor, who was frowning at the clipboard she held in her arm.
"Are you sure, Emma? You can trust me. I won't tell anyone." Doctor Taylor's eyes burned into her like hot pokers. She hesitated again, then replied
"I'm sure." She closed her eyes for a moment because the effort of talking tired her out greatly. Dr Taylor sighed, and wrote something on the clipboard.
"Thankyou Emma. I'll be back later to see you again. Until then, just get some sleep, ok?" Emma nodded her head slightly, and listened to the squeak of Dr. Taylor's shoes on the floor as she walked out of the room.
When Emma woke up about four hours later, she felt a presence next to her. She opened her eyes and saw her mother sitting in a chair staring at her. When she saw Emma open her eyes, she stood up.
"You're awake!" she pointed out the obvious. Emma didn't move.
"Answer me when I talk to you." Emma still didn't move. Her mother got impatient.
"Damn you Emma, talk to me!" her exasperation showed on her face.
"I can't" Emma whispered.
"Of course you can! You just told me that you couldn't, but you did!" her mother almost sounded relieved when Emma replied.
"I can't" Emma repeated herself.
"You are a stupid, stupid girl. Of course you can. Don't lie to me, Emma, or you'll find yourself in more trouble than you can imagine." Emma felt like she'd heard her mother say something like that before. Emma shook her head. Her mother opened her mouth to say something, but heard footsteps squeaking on the floor behind her. She turned around, and saw Dr. Taylor striding across the room.
"Dr. Taylor, so nice to see you again!" Emma's mother's attitude changed dramatically when Dr. Taylor entered the room.
"Hello Mrs. Bunting" Dr. Taylor nodded to Emma's mother. "How are you feeling, Emma?"
"A bit better, thankyou." Emma found it easier to talk to Dr. Taylor than to her mother. She waited for her mother to get angry with her, but received no reaction.
"That's good to hear. Is it easier to move, now?" Emma tried to move her hand, but when she did so, felt intense pain all over her arm. She flinched.
"No." The pain was so violent that she had to close her eyes and take deep breaths. She found that she couldn't breathe in very far without her whole chest feeling like it might blow up. She gasped with pain.
"Emma? Are you alright?" Dr. Taylor sounded worried. Emma waited for the pain to cease. She couldn't breathe properly, and the pain stayed.
"My-my chest. It's going to blow up!" she didn't whisper this time, but her voice was raspy and full of pain. Dr. Taylor hastily slipped the oxygen mask from next to her bed over Emma's head, and placed it over her nose and mouth.
"Emma, it's ok. I want you to breathe in slowly and deeply…" Emma tried, but the her chest just felt worse.
"I can't! It hurts too much! My chest…" her voice was desperate. She was taking short, staggered, wheezy breaths.
"Emma, you have to. It may hurt, but it will make your chest better in the long run…" Emma tried again, but found she couldn't breathe in at all.
"I-can't-breathe." Emma was petrified. She had no fresh oxygen in her lungs, and her whole body was starting to ache terribly. Dr. Taylor pressed the call button next to Emma's bed to call another doctor to the room. She then flicked a switch that was on the oxygen machine. Emma was suddenly aware of oxygen being forced into her lungs. She was impelled to breathe in deeply. The pain was so intense, she started to cry. Another doctor rushed into the room, and saw the difficulty Emma was in. Immediately he rushed out of the room, only to return in a few minutes with a cart. On the cart was a syringe. The other doctor filled the syringe with liquid. He tapped the air bubbles out, while Dr. Taylor dabbed Emma's aching arm with alcohol. The other doctor inserted the needle into Emma's arm and pressed down the plunger, releasing the liquid into Emma's body. The pain eased in a matter of seconds. Emma's body relaxed and she was flooded with relief. The oxygen being pumped into her lungs no longer hurt too much. She felt drowsy. The room turned black.
When she awoke, Emma found she could breathe without struggling. She no longer had an oxygen mask on. Her lungs were still a bit sore, but not very. Her limbs still ached and it was almost unbearable. Emma was alone in her room. She closed her eyes again, hoping that maybe when she opened them she'd be at home and her father would be there to tell her it was ok and he would never leave her. She opened her eyes and nearly started to cry again when she found that her surroundings hadn't changed. She had allowed herself to hope they would. She did this so often, she thought the disappointment of her father never being there might ease after a while, but it never did. She missed her father terribly. While he was still alive her mother hadn't beat her so often or severely. When he was home he protected her. Now he was gone her mother was the only one she had. Emma resented her for that. She felt her cool tears running down her aching cheeks. They eased the pain of her bruised and swollen face. Emma looked up as she heard footsteps squeaking on the floor. She saw Dr. Taylor walking towards her with the clipboard under her arm. Emma wondered why Dr. Taylor always carried the clipboard with her. She wondered what was written on it. Probably nothing. It was probably just for decoration. Dr. Taylor smiled at Emma, but she couldn't return the smile. She couldn't do much with the muscles in her mouth yet.
"Emma, how are you feeling?" Dr. Taylor looked nervously at her clipboard. Emma wondered why she was nervous.
"Sore." Emma was surprised when she could talk.
"Emma, how many stairs did you fall dow n?" Emma hesit ate d.
"I don't know. A few." Her whole face hurt from the effort of 5 words. Dr. Taylor wrote something on the clipboard.
"Can you describe your house to me, Emma?"
"It's blue. My father loved the colour blue. It's the main colour of the whole interior as well." Emma's face started throbbing, but she knew she must go on. "The kitchen is after a hallway. There are bedrooms before the hallway. The family room is near the kitchen. The hallway comes nearly all the way to the family room and kitchen. There's no room for anything there, so it's a photo gallery. It's mainly photos of my dad." Emma was confused. Why did Dr. Taylor want to know all this? Why was she writing it all down? While she waited for Dr. Taylor to finish writing Emma closed her eyes and took some deep breaths. The pain eased a little bit.
"Emma, can you describe the stairs for me?" Dr. Taylor stared into Emma's eyes.
"They're-um-after-after the-the hallway." Emma stammered. Dr. Taylor wrote on her clipboard again.
"I thought you said there was no room for anything after the hallway except pictures?"
"There's room for stairs."
"But that's not what you said before…"
"I changed my mind…" Emma trailed off at the end. Dr. Taylor stared harder into Emma's eyes. Emma looked away. Her whole head throbbed like never before. She felt in a daze.
"Emma, is there something you're not telling me?" Emma paused.
"N-no" Emma looked away. She hated lying like this.
"Emma, are you sure? You keep changing your mind about things." Emma closed her eyes, hoping that Dr. Taylor would see that she was in pain and would stop asking questions. No such luck.
"Emma, if there's something wrong, you can tell me. I'll do my best to make it better." Emma opened her eyes. Dr. Taylor looked hopeful, and got her pen ready to write.
"There's nothing wrong." Emma's voice shook a little. She hoped Dr. Taylor didn't notice. She did.
"Emma, we both know that's not true. What's bothering you?" Dr. Taylor's voice was kind and soothing. Emma thought for a few seconds.
"You promise you won't tell anyone?" Dr. Taylor nodded.
"Especially not my mother?"
"I promise." Dr. Taylor waited for Emma to say something.
"My mother-she-she-" Emma's eyes filled with tears. She moved a little bit to help ease the ache in her joints.
"Emma? Keep going…" Dr. Taylor touched Emma gently on the arm. Emma was surprised when it didn't hurt.
"She-hits me" Emma said it very quickly. The quicker she said it, the quicker this would be over. Dr. Taylor sat down in a chair next to Emma.
"Emma, you have to tell me something. How often does she hit you?"
"Um-I-I don't know. Quite often, I guess." Emma moved slightly again. When she did, pain rippled through out her body. She gasped with pain.
"Emma?" Dr. Taylor's voice was full of anxiety.
"Are you ok?" Emma opened her eyes.
"Yeah…I'm ok…well, ok considering…" she laughed, and cried out as her chest nearly exploded.
"What is it with my chest? It always hurts the most."
"You broke 2 ribs a while ago, and because your mother didn't bring you to the hospital, they never quite healed. Now they'll be brittle for the rest of your life." Emma couldn't believe what she was hearing.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes." Emma's eyes filled up with tears. Her whole body started aching more than ever.
"That-that's not fair!" she tried to control her voice.
"I'm going to be in pain for the rest of my life, all because she didn't bloody well care enough to get medical attention!" Emma's tears over flowed. They made rivers down her cheeks. Her body shook with pain and sobs. Dr. Taylor put her arm around Emma's shoulder but Emma just shrugged her away.
"Can I be alone for a while please?" she looked at Dr. Taylor pleadingly. Dr. Taylor saw the look.
"Yep. Just press the call button if you need anything, ok?" Emma nodded and Dr. Taylor walked out of her room. Emma lay looking at the ceiling for a long time. She stopped crying, but the hatred still burned inside her. She couldn't understand it. Why didn't her mother do anything about her ribs? Emma realised after a while that she wasn't only mad about her ribs. She was also mad because her mother had ruined Emma's life. For as long as she could remember, Emma's mother had beat her. It had started when she was about two years old. If Emma had cried her mother had given her a smack. They weren't just little harmless smacks; they were hard smacks that would leave Emma gasping for breath. If she complained about the intense pain she was in, her mother would just give her another one. When Emma was about seven, she had started to wet the bed. She slept in wet smelly sheets for weeks, because she was too afraid to tell her mother in fear of getting beaten. When her mother had finally found out, she gave Emma such a thrashing that Emma had thought she would surely die. Her father would usually stick up for Emma, but he was away on business a lot, so Emma's mother had quite a lot of opportunities to hit her and her father would never find out, because her bruises and cuts would have healed by the time he got home. Emma had been helpless. If she told her teachers, when they asked Emma's mother about it, she would put on an act of innocence, and say that Emma was just a clumsy child with a vivid imagination. And because the school wasn't a very good one and the teachers weren't really interested in the students, they left it at that. Emma had tried telling her grandmother, but she hadn't believed her. She'd been too scared to go to the police. Now she was injured for life.
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