Did I kill my father? The obvious answer is no, I did not kill him, he got into a car accident last night. The police even said so. The terrifying answer that I have in my head right now is telling me something different, though.

I can hear my conscience blaming it on me. Telling me that last night as I wished death upon him, I somehow changed the course of fate, and now it's my fault that he's at the morgue. I have to be careful, otherwise I might start believing those voices, and that wouldn't do me any good.

I shut the voices out of my head as I cut through Shelley White's backyard. Shelley is quite normal compared to some of the eccentric people that live on my street. She keeps to herself most of the time. Whenever I walk past her house, she is usually always in the upstairs window, sewing or doing some other type of craft. This morning it just so happens that she is looking out of her back door as I cross through her backyard.

"Good morning Emerald!" She exclaims, "Is everything alright? I saw a police car parked in your driveway and I've just been praying and praying that everything is alright!"

"Everything is fine," I reassure her. At the moment, I don't quite know if that's a complete lie, or not. "The officer was just checking on a noise complaint he got!"

"Oh that's good to hear!" She nods. I wave to her before I continue walking.

I'm a couple backyards away from my own, when I hear sirens. Shoot. He must've figured out that I'm not inside. I quicken my pace into an awkward jog, and I pull my hat down further on my head. If only I was capable of transportation.

As I get closer to Mrs. McKutch's house, I start to worry. What if she won't let me stay with her? I can't really see any reason why she wouldn't. I mean, I'll be a good help to her, and she won't even know I'm there. I take a few deep breaths before I hesitantly walk up her front steps. I lightly knock on her door, half hoping that she won't hear it.

"I swear you come earlier and earlier each and every day!" She says when she opens the door. She motions for me to come inside, "What's troubling you, my dear?"

"H-How'd you know something's wrong?" I ask her.

"No one, in all of the years that I've lived here, has ever knocked on my front door this early, without a reason to."

I try to come up with a response, but too many things are trapped inside my head, once again. As we sit down, I feel a lone tear make its way down my cheek. She places her hand on mine, which settles me down enough to get the words I need to say out of my mouth.

"My father died," I confess to her, and her eyes open wide, "Last night, he- well the police told me that he got into an accident on the road."

She observes me for a moment before she opens her mouth, presumably to console me, but I continue speaking before she gets the chance to.

"They wanted to take me to a foster home, but I wasn't comfortable with that, so I," A sob escapes once more, rendering me speechless.

"You were wondering if you could stay with me?" She asks as she loosens her grip on my hand. I nod. "Of course you can."

"Really?"

"I'd imagine!" She exclaims, "You're like a daughter to me, Emerald. You shouldn't have to be with a bunch of random strangers at a time of grieving like this."

"I can't thank you enough, Mrs—"

"Please, call me Amy." She stands up, so I do the same. "I'll show you to your room, and then I'll make you something to eat."

Once I'm alone, I begin to unpack my things. My new room is completely different than my old room was. Instead of yellow chipped wallpaper, the room is painted a lovely shade of light blue. I stop for a moment to look out of the window. The view from here is even more magnificent than I remember it being. I let some of my troubles go, leaving them to bother someone else on the street.

I'm placing some books on my bedside table, when I hear an alarm go off. I jump back, before realizing that it's only the grandfather clock in the living room. It finishes it's 12th chime just as Amy comes in the room. She has made up a little tray of snacks, which she sets down on the bed.

"Can I ask you something?" Amy inquires.

"Sure."

"Not to judge a book by it's cover, but I'm just concerned as to why you don't seem that troubled, knowing that your father has passed. Is it alright to ask that?"

I nod.

"My father. Well," I chuckle mid-sentence, "My father and I have never really seen eye to eye since my mother died."

"After a month of severe depression, he succumbed to defeat. He found a new wife, by the name of Alcohol. And the rest is history. Years and years of verbal and physical abuse from him have just added up to the point where I honestly couldn't care less about him. He was just a burden in my life that didn't need to be there, I guess."

I look her in the eye, and she gives me a look of understanding. It feels good to actually communicate my feelings with someone who genuinely cares about me.

"Thank you for telling me that," she croons, before exiting the room.

After eating the snacks that she gave me, I begin to feel bored. This isn't the same type of bored that I felt when I lived back at my house, where I was bored because I had nothing to do, instead I'm simply bored because I want to do something, but I can't think of what to do.

Maybe I should just slow down, and process the events of last night, I think to myself. Then I realize that I shouldn't slow down, as the voices in my head will only catch up to me.

I grab a sweater from my suitcase, before I open up the window. The cold air greets me like a slap in the face. Outside of my second floor room is a ledge, which I climb out onto. I'd use the front door, but I think I've caused Amy enough stress for one day, and she shouldn't have to constantly worry about my whereabouts. 

The drop from the second floor to the ground seems intimidating, but nothing I can't handle. I try to softly jump off of the edge into a roll like I've seen secret agents do in movies, but I look more like an ostrich digging its head into the ground, than I do James Bond.

I make my way downtown to the front street, where there are cute little gift shops and cafés. I go into the coffee shop on the corner. I remember I used to come here on Sundays, after church with my mother. We would order two hot chocolates, and we'd share a donut.

I get myself a hot chocolate and a donut, just like old times, and then I head over to the table by the window, where mom and I used to sit. It's busier on the main street today,and I guess I didn't think my plan through enough, for technically I am a missing child, who the police are still looking for.

I pull my hood over my head, and I blow on my hot chocolate to cool it down so that I can drink it. Despite my attempt at cooling it down, I still manage to burn my taste buds off.

"Emerald?" I turn my head to see one of my friends from school approaching me.

"Liz!" I say, faking a happy tone, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm supposed to be meeting Lily here, but she said she's gonna be late," she replies, "How come you weren't at school today?"

Truth be told, the thought of going to school hasn't even crossed my mind since last night. I couldn't tell her that, however.

"I wasn't feeling too good, so my dad let me stay home," I lie through my teeth.

"Oh! I see. There are rumours at school that—"

"No, those aren't true," I cut her off, not wanting to hear anything else about what happened last night.

"You okay?" She asks.

I really want to tell her everything. Liz has been one of my closest friends since kindergarten, and she knows most of my secrets. As much as I want to, I can't let on that anything happened, for if I do, word will get around as it always does, and I'll be stuck with a different family. I tell her that everything is okay, despite being "sick".

We talk for a few more minutes, before Lily comes in the door. I don't really know her all that well, so I leave the shop.

 I'm going out the door of the café, when who but the same officer that came to my house is coming in the doors. I turn my head the other way before he gets a good chance to look at my face.

I need to be more careful now, I realize. One wrong move, and I'll never see Amy, or any of the other residents of Easy street ever again. For now, I am out of harm's way, but we'll see how long that will last, considering nothing good ever usually happens to me.

It's midday, yet I feel as though a ton of bricks has just hit me. I decide to go back up to Amy's house to have a nap.

As I walk up Easy street, I realize that I still have a few items at my old home that I forgot to grab previously. I'm just going in and out, I tell myself.

I open up our front door, and go inside. The air smells different than it did this morning. Instead of the overwhelming scent of depression and lonesomeness, it smells empty. Just because I can't detect it on first sight doesn't mean that the memories aren't still here. Upon closer inspection of the walls as I go upstairs, I can see the dents and marks that were left as a reminder of all of the torture and abuse I've gone through.

I can't dwell on the past, I need to focus on what I came here for. At the end of the hallway upstairs, I look up to see a small cord. I tug on it, and a set of stairs unfolds down to the floor. I climb up them, and into the attic. I brush cobwebs out of my face as I make my way over to a trunk in the far corner.

After my mom had passed away, my father decided it would be best to put all of her stuff in a box, and to throw it up here in the attic to rot.

I open it up, to find all of her things, still in perfect condition. I lift out some of her clothes and hold them in my hands. This is the first time I've gone through her things since she died, years ago. I can feel my face getting red, and my eyes begin to water. I can't cry right now, I told myself I'd be as quick as possible getting my things.

I pull out a book that she owned called "The Eloquent Speaker". I remember she used to rave about it when I was younger. I place it into a separate pile, along with some other things like her jewelry, and pictures of our family. I rip my father out of all but one of them.

I place the rest of her things back in the trunk, and I make my way out of the attic. After folding the stairs back into place, I head to my room where I grab some of the items that wouldn't fit into my suitcase. I'm about to leave, when I hear someone yell from outside the front door downstairs.

"Emerald, this is officer McEwan. I don't want to scare you, but I have the house surrounded, and I need you to come with me."

I start to panic. I'm ensnared, and there's no way out of it.