Chapter 1
Ema's
The streetlight above me flickered once, then it flickered a second time before it finally went out. The sudden darkness was total, leaving the road ahead of me swallowed in shadows. I shifted my weight, but my school bag was heavy and full of textbooks. It slid off my shoulder and hit the cracked pavement with a dull, heavy sound. I reached down to grab the strap without thinking, but in the dark, my foot caught on a piece of uneven concrete. I didn't find my balance. I fell hard.
My knee hit the ground first, and the rough surface scraped through my jeans and into my skin. Then my palms slammed down, stinging as the grit of the road dug into my flesh. Finally, the side of my head hit the curb. A sharp, hot pain shot through my skull. I felt something warm begin to run down into my eyebrow. It was blood. It stung as it mixed with the sweat on my face, but I was too dazed to move right away.
Then, I heard them. Footsteps sounded on the pavement behind me. They were slow and measured, moving with a purpose that made my stomach drop. I counted three different sets of feet.
I pushed myself up with arms that wouldn't stop shaking. I blinked hard, trying to see through the blur in my eyes and the blood dripping down my forehead. They were already there. They were standing right in front of me, looking down at me like I was something they had found on the bottom of their shoes. It was the same three girls from my school. These were the girls who never let a single day go by without reminding me that I was their favorite target.
Lila stepped forward first. Her mouth twisted into a look of pure disgust just from looking at me. Before I could say anything or try to get away, she reached down and grabbed my neck with one hand. Her nails were long and sharp, and they dug deep into the soft skin under my jaw. She forced my head back, pinning me against the cold stone of the curb. I had no choice but to look up at her.
"I warned you," she said. Her voice was low, but it felt as sharp as a knife. As she spoke, I could smell the scent of cheap bubblegum on her breath. "I told you to stay the hell away from my man."
I struggled to breathe. Her grip was tight, and it felt like she was squeezing the air right out of my throat. "I don't even know your man," I said. My voice sounded rough and thin. "I don't like him. I don't talk to him. I don't even look at him, Lila."
Behind her, Kara and Mia started to laugh. It was a loud, mean sound, as if I had just told the funniest joke they had ever heard.
"Sure you don't," Kara said, stepping closer. "You think we're stupid, Ema? You walk past him every single day like you're begging for attention."
"I walk past everyone," I told them. I felt my voice crack with frustration and fear. "It's a hallway. I have to go to class."
Lila squeezed my neck even harder. "You're lying."
She tilted her head toward Mia, giving her a silent signal. Mia reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. she shoved the screen close to my face, and suddenly, the bright flash went off. It burned my eyes, leaving white spots in my vision. I saw a small red dot blinking on the screen. She was recording me.
"Say hi to the camera," Mia said. She had a fake, sweet smile on her face that didn't reach her eyes. "This is how Ema finally learns her place."
I tried to turn my face away, but Lila yanked my head back toward the lens. "Look at the camera when you talk to us," she barked.
"I'm telling the truth," I said. I tried to make my voice sound strong, but I could feel my hands shaking against the ground. "I don't want him. I don't want any of this. Not at all."
Lila's eyes went dark and hard. She didn't say another word. Instead, she hit me.
Her fist slammed into my cheek with a force that made my vision swim. Pain exploded across the side of my face, sharp and sudden. My head snapped to the side from the impact. Before I could even process the pain, Kara stepped in and shoved me backward. I lost my balance and fell onto the hard ground again.
They didn't stop there. The kicks followed almost immediately. They were fast and cruel. I felt their shoes hitting my ribs, my stomach, and my legs. I curled my body into a ball, covering my head with my arms, trying to protect myself from the blows. I felt every hit. I felt the air leave my lungs.
"Next time," Lila said, leaning down to deliver one last kick to my side, "you won't wake up."
Then, just as quickly as it started, it stopped.
I heard them laughing as they turned around. Their footsteps faded into the night as they walked away, leaving me alone in the dark. The street went quiet. The only thing I could hear was the sound of my own breathing, which was rough and uneven.
I stayed on the ground for a long time. I was terrified that they might change their minds and come back to finish what they started. When the silence stayed, I finally forced myself to stand up. My entire body ached. Every muscle felt like it had been bruised. My left eye was already starting to swell shut, and I could feel the heat of the inflammation. Blood dripped from my split lip and landed on my shirt. I wiped it away with my sleeve, but it only smeared the red stain across my hand.
I looked around and found my bag. The strap was torn and hanging by a few threads, but I pulled it over my shoulder anyway. I started to walk.
As I moved down the sidewalk, a few people passed me by. I saw them look at me. A woman pushing a stroller slowed down for a second, her eyes wide as she saw the blood on my face, but then she looked away and hurried past. An older man just shook his head and kept walking as if I were a problem he didn't want to deal with. No one stopped to help me. No one asked if I was okay.
I didn't expect them to. In this part of town, people minded their own business.
I kept my head down and kept walking. Every step I took sent a pulse of pain through my body. My bruises throbbed in time with my heart. I kept asking myself the same question over and over: Why me? Why was it always me? I never did anything to get noticed. I stayed quiet in the back of the room. I kept my grades high because I thought that was my way out. I spent every evening in the library until the librarians told me it was time to close. I worked every weekend at the corner store, saving every single dollar I earned so I could leave this life behind one day. And yet, this still happened. It felt like no matter how hard I tried to be invisible, the world still found a way to hurt me.
By the time I reached my apartment building, my legs felt like they were made of lead. I could hear loud music coming through the front door even before I reached it. The bass was so loud that I could feel the door frame vibrating. I already knew what I would find when I went inside. It was always the same story.
I opened the door and walked in.
The living room was a mess. It smelled like old beer, stale cigarettes, and something sour that I couldn't identify. My mother was sprawled across the couch. One of her legs was hanging off the edge, and a bottle was dangled loosely from her hand. Her eyes were half-closed, and her mascara was smeared all the way down her cheeks. The only light in the room came from the TV, which cast a dull, flickering blue glow over everything.
I didn't want to talk to her. I tried to walk past her, heading straight for the stairs. I wanted to go to my room, lock the door, and just disappear into the dark where nothing could touch me.
"Ema."
Her voice was like a blade cutting through the loud music. It was slow and slurred from the drink.
I stopped moving. I didn't want to turn around, but I knew I had to.
"Come here," she ordered.
I turned to face her. She pushed herself up into a sitting position, looking unsteady. She pointed the neck of the bottle at me like it was a weapon.
"Why are you so late?" she asked, her eyes narrowing as she tried to focus on me.
"I got held up," I said softly. I didn't want to tell her about the girls. She wouldn't care anyway.
"Held up," she repeated. She let out a bitter, mocking laugh. "You always have an excuse for everything, don't you?"
I stayed quiet. Experience had taught me that talking back only made things worse.
She stood up and wobbled toward me. "You think you can just come and go whenever you want? You think you can keep eating my food and sleeping here like you own the place?"
"I don't—"
"Shut up!" she screamed. She moved closer until she was right in my face. The smell of alcohol on her breath was overwhelming. "You're useless. Do you know that? You are completely and totally useless."
The word hit me harder than the punches Lila had thrown earlier. It felt like it was sinking into my bones.
"Why do you hate me so much?" I asked. The question came out before I could stop it. I felt the tears stinging my eyes now. "What did I ever do to make you hate me like this?"
Her eyes flashed with a sudden, mean anger. "You were born," she snapped. "That was enough."
Then, she hit me.
The back of her hand struck my face with a loud crack. She hit me right on the cheek where Lila had punched me. I stumbled back, my head spinning as I tasted blood in my mouth for the second time that night.
"You're a mistake," she said, her voice dripping with venom. "I should have left you at the hospital the day you were born. I regret keeping you every single day."
My eyes burned, but I refused to let the tears fall. I looked her right in the eyes.
"I regret it too," I told her. My voice was shaking, but I made sure she heard me. "I regret having a mother like you."
I turned my back on her and started for the stairs. I was done. I just wanted to be away from her.
But she was faster than I expected her to be.
I heard the sound of the bottle moving through the air before I felt it. It came down hard on the back of my head. The glass shattered on impact. I felt a sharp, tearing pain as the bottle broke. Liquid and jagged pieces of glass scattered over my shoulders and down my back. My knees gave out instantly. I couldn't hold myself up anymore.
Everything went dark as I hit the floor.