It was hard not to think about it.

I woke up most nights in a cold sweat. I had nightmares of Elijah slitting Peyton's throat or of my uncle finding me. I was happy but still traumatized. My therapist recommended that I find something to productively channel all of my bad thoughts into. I bought a journal but never used it. I threw everything into my relationship, my friendships, raising Ethan, decorating my new classroom, my house, a garden.

It didn't help.

It was weird. I wasn't slipping back into old habits. My depression wasn't worsening. I was just plagued with images that curdled my blood and haunted by memories of my darkest days. I tried drawing the scenes painted on the back of my eyelids. Sketching them just made me remember them in clearer detail. I ended up throwing my sketchbook into a bonfire at Rossi's house. I thought maybe seeing the pages burn would erase the pictures.

It didn't help.

My therapist said it was entirely possible that I had PTSD. After all, I'd been through a lot of trauma in my life. I wasn't sure. Yeah, there were times when I was in class and suddenly I felt like I was dying, and times when I could've sworn I saw Elijah or my uncle in the hallway or on the street, but I didn't think I had PTSD. My therapist told me that PTSD wasn't something experienced by soldiers. It was something experienced by survivors. That was me, apparently. A survivor.

I started new medication, but it didn't help.

I increased my caffeine intake and avoided sleeping. I spent my free time creating lesson plans, taking care of Ethan, or watching Youtube videos. I tried to get out of the house often. I visited Spencer at work and looked after his place while he was away. When he was in town, I stayed with him and the sex was mind-blowing. I loved him so fucking much. There was no better feeling than waking up in the morning to his beautiful face.

But it didn't help.

I decided to backtrack and review my old coping skills. Maybe there was something I'd forgotten that would help me. Penelope sent me sites full of suggestions. There was one in common that I realized used to be my everything. My therapist assured me it wouldn't hurt to try this coping skill again. "It worked for a reason," she said.

So I tried it.

One night, I pulled my laptop onto my lap. I booted it up. The bright light flooded my vision. My eyes adjusted quickly and I logged in. A Jacksepticeye video started blasting through my earbuds. I paused it, smiling softly. It was the video I was watching with Spencer. I'd forced him to watch it with me, but I think he was enjoying it.

I opened a new tab and clicked on the icon for google drive. While it loaded, I looked out my window. The night sky was beautiful. I wondered how Spence was doing with their case in New Mexico. I returned my attention to the screen. My Drive was full of lesson plans and other random teacher bullshit. I was tempted to click on one of my documents and update it, but I had other business to attend to.

I created a new document. Crickets chirped happily in the background as my fingers hovered above the keys. At first, I had no idea what to write. I didn't have a story to tell. An owl hooted and it came to me. I did have a story. I had my story.

Without a second thought, I typed the first words.

It's four in the morning and I'm cold.

I can't sleep. I'm staring at the ceiling. My eyes are wide open and I haven't blinked in awhile. The air conditioner is on high. The blankets are on the floor. I'm wearing footie pajamas that my mom says I'm too old for, but maybe they're the last of my innocence. Maybe they're all I have left. So I'll wear them till the pattern fades and the soft fabric grows rough. They're supposed to be a barrier against the cold.

I'm freezing.

*

a/n: this is the last chapter of endearing !!!!! thank you all so much for going on this adventure with me. I never thought this story would become so popular. I certainly never thought people would love emma as much as I do. I'm contemplating doing a book of one-shots to continue emma and arareid's story. i also might do a q + a with emma, but only if you guys submit questions so ?? it's entirely up to y'all

but yeah, this is the end. over the course of these 20 chapters + an epilogue, emma has evolved from a sad little lgbt who didn't believe in herself into a confident, happy little lgbt. i love her so fucking much because she's not perfect. she is tragic, she is broken, she is haphazardly put back together, she is mentally ill, she is so much !!!

emma honestly has been through hell and back but she became stronger bc of it ??? and as an mentally ill lgbt myself, it's so nice to see emma overcome everything and ultimately save the day. i'm so proud of this story. im not always super happy with my writing but i'd read through endearing and my heart would just fucking swell. i'm so in love with spencer and emma. they're my babies.

(also if it's not clear, the chapter cold is the first chapter of emma's book about her life)

i could gush about this story and how proud am i and how thankful i am for you guys for ages, but i won't force you to read an entire essay. seriously tho, thank you guys so fucking much for everything. i can't believe how far this story has come.

i love you all !!!! emma and spencer love you too. emma wants you to know that no matter how awful your life seems, it can and will get better.

one last time: thank you, i love you, and for fuck's sake, never give up on yourself

also buy chapter three: yellow by bea miller on itunes