EMERSON DID THE BEST SHE COULD AT AVOID ELLA AND HER HUSBAND. She had succeeded for two days, and waking up the Monday before she began at her new school she hoped she would manage one more day.

      William left the house every day at eight in the morning, driving away in that fancy sedan Emerson had been picked up in. He had gotten in the habit of pausing at the end of the driveway to glance up at Emerson's window, as though hoping to see her there. But she never gave him that satisfaction.

      Five minutes later, there was the now-familiar knock at her door. "Emerson?" Ella's voice was soft but steady, a hint of tiredness woven through it. "I made you some breakfast. Can we talk for a few minutes?"

      Emerson didn't answer, she hadn't the past two days, but Ella kept trying. She sat cross-legged on her bed, staring out the small window. The distant rustle of leaves in the wind filled the silence between them.

      "I'll leave it here for you," Ella said finally. "It's a long day ahead. You need to eat something."

      The soft clink of a plate being set down reached her ears, followed by Ella's retreating footsteps. Emerson waited until she heard the front door close and the white sedan pull out of the driveway at precisely eight-thirty before she opened her door.

      As always, the plate sat neatly on the floor, a simple breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast, accompanied by a glass of orange juice. The sight annoyed her, though she couldn't fully explain why. Maybe it was the care Ella seemed to put into it—care that felt foreign, even smothering, after so many years of fending for herself.

      She picked up the plate and carried it back into her room, eating mechanically. She couldn't deny the food was good—better than anything she'd managed on the Rez—but that only made her angrier. She didn't want to owe them anything, she didn't want to owe Ella anything.

      By nine, she was dressed and ready to leave. She pulled on a worn hoodie, grabbed her single backpack still full of clothes, and slipped downstairs. Lucas was sprawled out on the couch in the living room, his gaming console lighting up the room with flashes of color. He glanced up as she passed by.

"Going out?" He asked casually, his tone more curious than confrontational. They hadn't spoken since that night they had met, and Emerson had succeeded in avoiding him every time she left.

"Just for a walk," she muttered, not meeting his eyes.

"You know they're just trying to help, right?" Lucas called after her, but she didn't stop. His words echoed in her mind as she stepped onto the porch, the crisp morning air hitting her like a slap. Help. Was that what this was? Dragging her away from everything she'd ever known, even if it had been hell? Staring at her like she was some fragile thing that might shatter at any moment?

She shook the thought away and headed toward the small shopping district a few blocks away. Port Angeles was always the place to shop, but Forks had a few family owned businesses. She had been scoping out places for days, watching from a distance as employees hustled in and out. Today, she resolved to actually go in and ask about jobs.

Her first stop was a coffee shop on the corner, where the smell of roasted beans and baked goods made her stomach tighten. She hovered by the counter, until a barista noticed her.

"Hi there! Looking for something?"

"I was wondering if you're hiring," Emerson said, her voice quieter than she'd intended.

The barista gave her a kind smile. "We might be. Let me grab the manager for you."

Emerson nodded, waiting nervously as the manager appeared. She answered a few polite questions about her availability. The manager frowned slightly when she couldn't produce a resume or that she didn't have much experience. But Emerson tried to sound confident, and by the time she had left the shop, she felt a faint flicker of pride. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

      She felt more confident walking into the diner, where she once again spoke to the manager, answered each question with a smile and walked out with the promise of being contacted again. She stopped by a few more places; one had even asked her to fill out an application. But their pitying looks burned. They didn't see her as capable—they saw her as some damaged kid who didn't belong.

      Her feet ached as she walked home. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the quiet streets. When she turned onto the street and saw both cars in the driveway, her chest tightened.

      She hesitated on the porch, gripping the strap of her backpack tightly, before forcing herself to open the door. The low murmur of voices drifted in from the living room as she stepped inside cautiously.

      "Emerson?" Ella's voice came from the living room. "We're in here."

      Emerson froze. She debated running back outside but decided against it. She couldn't avoid them forever. With stiff steps, she made her way to the living room, her eyes scanning for an exit even as she entered.

      William sat on the couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Ella stood nearby, her arms crossed over her chest, but her expression was soft, concerned.

      "Hey, kiddo," William said, his voice calm. "How was your day?"

      "Fine," Emerson muttered, keeping her eyes fixed on the floor. She felt like a caged animal, every muscle in her body tensed for an escape.

      Ella took a step closer. "We were hoping to talk to you. About everything."

      "Everything?" Emerson repeated, her voice sharp.

      William sighed. "We know this hasn't been easy for you. Being here, away from your friends, away from what's familiar. But we did this because we care about you, Emerson."

      "Care?" Emerson's voice cracked, the word dripping with disbelief. "You dragged me out of my life without asking! You don't care about me—you just felt guilty or something."

      "That's not true," Ella said firmly, though her voice was still gentle. "We took you away because your father wasn't safe for you. You don't have to live like that anymore."

      "You don't know what I needed!" Emerson snapped, her anger bubbling over. "I hadn't seen you in years, I wasn't even invited to your wedding, and then you show to my house and rip me away from everything I've know and expect me to be okay with it? You don't know anything about me!"

      William stood, his face drawn but steady. "We know more than you think. We know you've been hurt, and we're trying to give you a chance to heal. But you have to let us help you."

      "I didn't ask for your help!" She shouted, her voice breaking. "I don't need it!"

      Before either of them could respond, Emerson turned and bolted for the door, her chest heaving with barely contained sobs. She heard them calling after her, but she didn't stop. The cool evening air hit her face as she ran, her feet pounding against the pavement in an uneven rhythm. The pain in her feet long forgotten as she ran. She didn't know where she was going until the trees of the reservation came into view. The scent of pine and damp earth filled her lungs as she slowed to a walk, the tension in her chest easing just slightly. The scent of saltwater and seaweed hit her a second later as she neared the beach, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore filling the air. The sight of the endless ocean, dark and moody under the dimming sky, made her breath catch.

      "Em?"

      The familiar voice made her stop. She turned to see Kim standing a few feet away, a look of surprise and concern on her face.

      "Kim," Emerson breathed, her voice shaking.

      Kim closed the distance between them in a few quick steps pulling the girl into a hug. "What's going on? What are you doing out here?"

      "I—I just couldn't stay there," Emerson said, her words tumbling out. "I had to get out. They keep. . .they keep acting like they know what's best for me, like I should be grateful or something."

      Kim's brows furrowed, and she reached out, grabbing the brunettes hand and pulling her along with her. "Come on. Let's go sit."

They walked in silence, the sand cool and soft beneath their feet. Kim led her to a cluster of driftwood logs near the water's edge, where they sat with the waves lapping a few feet away.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The ocean stretched out endlessly before them, its steady rhythm soothing.

"You want to talk about it?" Kim asked finally, her voice low.

"I don't know," Emerson admitted, staring at the dark horizon. "They say they're trying to help me, but it doesn't feel like help. It feels like. . .like they're trying to control me."

Kim nodded slowly. "I get that. But maybe it's not about control. Maybe they're just scared. They don't know how to handle someone like you."

"Someone like me?" Emerson asked, lightness in her voice that only Kim managed to bring out.

Kim laughed, bumping Emerson shoulder, "You know what I mean. You've been through stuff, Em. Stuff they probably can't even imagine. They're probably just trying to figure out how to make it better, even if they're going about it all wrong."

Emerson didn't respond. She stared at the waves, the tightness in her chest easing slightly. Kim didn't push her, just sat beside her as the sky darkened and the stars began to appear.

      Kim shifted beside her. "You know. . .you don't have to go back there tonight."

      Emerson turned, surprised. "What do you mean?"

      "I mean, you can stay at my place. My mom won't care—she loves having you over, you know that. And it'll give you a break. You don't have to deal with them tonight."

      The offer hung in the air, warm and inviting. Emerson hesitated, the tightness in her chest loosening slightly at the thought of not having to face Ella and William tonight. "Are you sure? I don't want to cause any trouble."

      Kim smiled faintly. "You're not trouble, Em. Come on. My mom's probably making fry bread or something. You'll feel better after you eat."

      Emerson hesitated for only a moment before nodding. "Okay. Thanks, Kim."

      They walked together up the beach and toward Kim's house, the familiar scents of wood smoke and cooking food greeting Emerson as they neared. The Connweller home was small but cozy, its walls lined with family photos and woven blankets. But glancing out the window, Emerson caught sight of her father's home and couldn't help but let her mind wander to Davin. He hadn't answered any of her calls or texts since the first night, and she couldn't help but wonder if he was okay.

      Kim's mom, Lila, greeted them warmly. "Emerson! It's been too long. Are you staying for dinner?"

      Kim answered for her. "Yeah, she is. I told her you wouldn't mind."

"Of course not," Lila said, ushering them inside. "Wash up, girls. Dinner's almost ready."

The kitchen was filled with the rich aroma of fry bread and stew. Emerson felt a pang of guilt as she sat at the table, but it was quickly overshadowed by the sense of comfort the Connweller home brought.

They ate together, the conversation light and easy, and for the first time in days, Emerson felt herself relax. Kim teased her about how much stew she ate, and Lila piled more fry bread onto her plate with a knowing smile.After dinner, they sat in the living room, talking quietly while the soft hum of the TV played in the background. When Emerson finally leaned back into the couch, her eyes heavy with sleep, Kim nudged her gently.

"You can crash here. Mom's already putting blankets on the couch for you."

"Thanks, Kim," Emerson murmured, her voice thick with exhaustion. As she drifted off, the tightness in her chest eased. For the first time in days, she felt safe.

      The next morning, Emerson knew she couldn't avoid the Brooks family any longer. So with a heavy heart, Emerson thanked Kim and her mother heavily, and with the promise of returning next weekend for another dinner, Emerson left. She avoided looking at her father's house, the wooden building looming over her like a giant nightmare.

The walk into Forks was longer than the run to the reservation. Most likely because the weight of Ella, Will and Lucas's reactions weighted on her more. As Emerson approached the house, the sight of a police cruiser parked in the driveway stopped her in her tracks. Her heart sank, a knot forming in her stomach. Ella and William were standing on the porch, their faces pale and tense. Lucas leaned against the railing, looking restless, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

A uniformed officer was speaking to them, his notepad open, while another officer stood near the cruiser, his radio crackling faintly.

Emerson froze, unsure whether to keep walking or turn around. Her hesitation gave her away. Ella turned first, her eyes widening as they locked onto Emerson. The relief on her face was instant and overwhelming.

"Emerson!" Ella's voice was a mix of relief and something sharper, almost panicked. She broke into a half-run toward her.

William was right behind her, his brows drawn together in a mixture of concern and exasperation. "Where have you been?"

Lucas straightened, glaring down from the porch. "You freaked everyone out. What were you thinking?"

Emerson clenched her jaw, her hands tightening around the strap of her backpack. "I was with Kim. I needed some air."

"Air?" William's voice was tight, though he was clearly trying to temper his frustration. "You left without telling anyone where you were going. We had no idea if you were safe. We thought—" He stopped himself, pressing his lips together as if to keep from saying too much.

"We thought something had happened to you," Ella said softly, her voice trembling. Her hands fluttered as if she wanted to reach out to Emerson but wasn't sure if she'd be allowed.

The officer closest to the porch stepped forward, addressing Ella and William. "It looks like everything's resolved here. I'm glad she showed up before we finished filing everything, give us a call so we can close things out later."

He turned to Emerson, his expression stern but not unkind. "Young lady, you need to let your family know where you're going. It's dangerous to disappear like that. People worry about you."

Emerson nodded mutely, her face hot under the officer's gaze. The word "family" rang hollow in her ears. These weren't her family—they were just people who had taken her in because they felt bad.

Ella turned to the officer when it was clear Emerson had no plans to respond, "thank you so much, Charlie."

After the officers left, Ella stepped closer, her expression a mix of exhaustion and concern. "We were so scared," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I thought—I thought something might've happened to you."

William sighed, running a hand through his hair. "We're not angry, Emerson. But you can't just vanish like that. Do you understand how dangerous that is? How much we worried?"

Lucas muttered something under his breath, something that sounded like "unbelievable," but when Emerson glanced at him, his usual smirk was gone. He looked shaken, his arms still crossed tightly as if holding himself together.

Emerson didn't know how to respond. She stared at them, their worry palpable in every word, every glance. It made her stomach churn. Her father had never cared where she went or if she came back. If she was late, well, she had enough bruises and scars to prove she wouldn't be late again.

This? This was different. Unsettling.

But it didn't feel good—it felt suffocating. Their concern couldn't be real, could it? No one had ever cared about her like this before, and it was easier to believe it wasn't about her at all.

She dropped her gaze to the ground, her voice cold and clipped. "I get it. You were worried. I'm sorry if I made things difficult for you."

Ella's brow furrowed. "Emerson, this isn't about—"

"I know what it's about," Emerson interrupted, her tone sharp. "You don't want people thinking you can't handle me. That's why you called the cops, right? To make sure it didn't look bad for you."

William flinched, his face tightening. "That's not why we called them and you know it."

"Do I?" Emerson shot back, her voice rising. "Because from where I'm standing, it sure feels like you're more worried about how this looks than about me."

Ella took a step back, hurt flickering across her face. Lucas opened his mouth, but William held up a hand to stop him.

"We're worried because we care," William said quietly, his voice steady but firm. "You don't have to believe that right now. But it's the truth."

Emerson's throat tightened, her emotions warring between anger and something deeper, something more vulnerable. She couldn't handle this, the way their eyes seemed to pierce through her defenses.

"I'm going to my room," she muttered, brushing past them and pushing the door open.

She barely heard Ella's soft, "We'll be here if you want to talk."

Her vision threatened to go black as she ran up the stairs, closing her door and locking it. Emerson sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the floor. Their voices echoed in her head, their concern too much to process. It didn't feel real. It couldn't be real.

Her father's voice replaced theirs, his usual dismissive tone ringing in her ears. "No one's ever going to care about you like you think they will. People only help when they get something out of it."

She clenched her fists, trying to block out the memories. If Ella and William cared, it wasn't because of her—it was because of what taking her in said about them. She told herself that over and over, but the knot in her chest wouldn't go away.

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KENNEDY SPEAKS :

okay guys, emerson does not no how to
cope. she had deep rooted trauma that makes
her believe she is unlovable to a fault. so a lot of
act one is her figuring out that she can be loved.

but sorry for how sporadic this chapter has been ;)