everything I possibly could. Someday, though, someday I would be the one who destroyed her over what happened.
Chapter 4
****Past****
Emmerson
Two weeks now I had gone to Will’s every day after school to work on the project. I had to admit, I still felt guilty over stealing his lunches, but they were so good and I hid what I could in the little cubbyhole I found in my room. One board that wasn’t attached like the others was big enough to keep me from being so sick until my next stolen meal. When you were starving, you did what you had to do. I just wondered if he knew it was me that was taking his lunches.
He had to know. I was the one sitting behind him and I never did look him in the eye afterward. I couldn’t. I was ashamed of what I had to do and I knew stealing was wrong. Then again, when you were so hungry your insides felt like they were shredding apart, you had to do something. And I stole his bagged lunches to survive. Stealing from him had been ten times better than stealing a piece of bread or some crackers from my dad. At least I didn’t bleed or hurt for two weeks afterward. And why, if he knew I was stealing his lunches, he had chosen me to work on the project with was something I still tried to figure out.
Taking a seat at the large dining room table in the smaller, quiet room filled with pictures of horses and the family, my heart sank hard. Was this how a dining room was supposed to look? I understood that some families, certainly not mine, sat down to dinner and ate together. Was this normal? I would hope so. I wanted to see what it was like. I wanted to see what it would be like to sit at a table that had food on it, enough food for everyone to eat and fill up on. Me? I had no idea what that feeling was like. Sure, I sat at a table, but I had to sit and watch my dad fill himself on whatever he had. If there was anything left over, t hen I would get to eat. But there was never anything left over. Even when he was grunting and groaning, his stomach bloating because he was so full, he still managed to finish off everything, leaving me nothing.
“Emmy?” Will’s soft voice drifted through the sweet scented a ir as he unzipped his brand new black backpack, the one I pulled the brown bags of life out of when he wasn’t in his seat.
I wanted to cry. I wanted to just blurt out what I did. I stole his food. I did it. I was sorry that I did. If he knew what I did, would he ever forgive me for being the reason why he had to go hungry through the school days? I liked him. I really did. He was sweet and caring and one person that was still nice to me even when all his friends were picking on me.
“I figured we could work on the paper a little bit tonight and talk about what we want to do. Then, I will have to run out and help with some chores before dinner. I can see if Paul could take you home before…..”
“No!” The breath burned my lungs as I stepped back from the table, not realizing I said something. If my dad knew I just about let it out that I didn’t want to go home, I would never live to see another day. I knew that and he reminded me every time he was actually home. After each time he would correct my errors or show me that I was wrong about something. He warned me, and his warnings were just as painful.
That was why we had to leave the last little town we were living in. A small town in North Dakota. I liked it there, but he didn’t. He didn’t like the way people looked at him or talked to him. I didn’t see a problem. They were nice. I thought so. But school had called him in , asking some questions. I didn’t know why or what about, but I remember that day I watched him walk into the office, his shirt pressed nicely and the fresh, clean jeans on. For once, he looked handsome. His blonde hair cleaned and combed for once and the disgusting growth was shaven off his face, letting those aqua eyes shine brightly. Striking, but no one had seen the
Chapter 4
****Past****
Emmerson
Two weeks now I had gone to Will’s every day after school to work on the project. I had to admit, I still felt guilty over stealing his lunches, but they were so good and I hid what I could in the little cubbyhole I found in my room. One board that wasn’t attached like the others was big enough to keep me from being so sick until my next stolen meal. When you were starving, you did what you had to do. I just wondered if he knew it was me that was taking his lunches.
He had to know. I was the one sitting behind him and I never did look him in the eye afterward. I couldn’t. I was ashamed of what I had to do and I knew stealing was wrong. Then again, when you were so hungry your insides felt like they were shredding apart, you had to do something. And I stole his bagged lunches to survive. Stealing from him had been ten times better than stealing a piece of bread or some crackers from my dad. At least I didn’t bleed or hurt for two weeks afterward. And why, if he knew I was stealing his lunches, he had chosen me to work on the project with was something I still tried to figure out.
Taking a seat at the large dining room table in the smaller, quiet room filled with pictures of horses and the family, my heart sank hard. Was this how a dining room was supposed to look? I understood that some families, certainly not mine, sat down to dinner and ate together. Was this normal? I would hope so. I wanted to see what it was like. I wanted to see what it would be like to sit at a table that had food on it, enough food for everyone to eat and fill up on. Me? I had no idea what that feeling was like. Sure, I sat at a table, but I had to sit and watch my dad fill himself on whatever he had. If there was anything left over, t hen I would get to eat. But there was never anything left over. Even when he was grunting and groaning, his stomach bloating because he was so full, he still managed to finish off everything, leaving me nothing.
“Emmy?” Will’s soft voice drifted through the sweet scented a ir as he unzipped his brand new black backpack, the one I pulled the brown bags of life out of when he wasn’t in his seat.
I wanted to cry. I wanted to just blurt out what I did. I stole his food. I did it. I was sorry that I did. If he knew what I did, would he ever forgive me for being the reason why he had to go hungry through the school days? I liked him. I really did. He was sweet and caring and one person that was still nice to me even when all his friends were picking on me.
“I figured we could work on the paper a little bit tonight and talk about what we want to do. Then, I will have to run out and help with some chores before dinner. I can see if Paul could take you home before…..”
“No!” The breath burned my lungs as I stepped back from the table, not realizing I said something. If my dad knew I just about let it out that I didn’t want to go home, I would never live to see another day. I knew that and he reminded me every time he was actually home. After each time he would correct my errors or show me that I was wrong about something. He warned me, and his warnings were just as painful.
That was why we had to leave the last little town we were living in. A small town in North Dakota. I liked it there, but he didn’t. He didn’t like the way people looked at him or talked to him. I didn’t see a problem. They were nice. I thought so. But school had called him in , asking some questions. I didn’t know why or what about, but I remember that day I watched him walk into the office, his shirt pressed nicely and the fresh, clean jeans on. For once, he looked handsome. His blonde hair cleaned and combed for once and the disgusting growth was shaven off his face, letting those aqua eyes shine brightly. Striking, but no one had seen the
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