𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 │ 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

IT HAD BEEN A COUPLE of days since Jessica had made Emberly clean out her room. The process had been humiliating, with her family standing by as she emptied her drawers and backpack, to show that she didn't have any other liquor or pills. The process had felt invasive and humiliating. It was like a spotlight on her mistakes, and Emberly hated every second of it. 

Now, with her room stripped bare and a new set of rules hanging over her, she felt like a prisoner. Therapy sessions twice a week. NA meetings every Sunday. No phone after 8 PM. No hanging out with friends unless Jessica personally approved. 

As Emberly and Evelyn walked into the house after another dull session with her therapist, she felt the weight of those rules pressing on her, a constant reminder of how much her mother didn't trust her anymore. Jessica was waiting for them in the living room. She looked up from the book she was reading, her gaze softening slightly when she saw Emberly.

"How was your session?" Jessica asked, her tone carefully even, though Emberly could hear the underlying concern.

"Boring. Just like the other times," Emberly muttered, not breaking her stride as she headed into the kitchen.

Jessica sighed, glancing at Evelyn, who shrugged. "She's just being moody," Evelyn offered, though her voice carried a touch of exasperation.

Jessica stood, following Emberly into the kitchen. "Are you still mad?" she asked gently, leaning against the doorway.

"I'm not mad," Emberly replied quickly, crossing her arms over her chest. The defensiveness in her voice betrayed her, though.

Jessica stepped closer, her voice soft but firm. "Listen, you know I only did this because I love you. I don't want you to—"

"End up like Dad. I know," Emberly cut her off. Her voice was sharp, but there was a tremble beneath it. She didn't look at her mother, afraid of seeing that mix of disappointment and pity in her eyes.

Jessica's face softened further, but before she could say anything else, Emberly shook her head. "I'm pretty tired. I'm gonna go lay down." She didn't wait for a response, brushing past her mother and heading for the stairs.

Jessica watched her go, her worry etched into every line of her face. Evelyn hesitated before speaking. "She'll be okay, Mom. She just needs time."

Jessica nodded, though her expression remained troubled. "I hope so."

Upstairs, Emberly closed the door to her room and leaned against it, letting out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Her room felt suffocating these days, stripped bare of anything that might tempt her. It felt like a prison cell.

She flopped on her bed and stared at the ceiling. Therapy, NA, no friends, no phone at night. What's next? A tracking bracelet?

She rolled onto her side, glaring at her neatly organized desk. Even her old journal, where she used to scribble down her thoughts and lyrics, sat abandoned on her desk. When's the last time she picked that thing up? 

She reached for her phone but stopped herself, remembering the rule about not texting or calling anyone her mom hadn't approved of. She dropped it back onto the nightstand with a sigh.

Not going to school, not seeing her friends—it was like she didn't exist anymore. She felt like a ghost, wandering through her own life without a clue how to start living it again. 

Maybe this is what I deserve, she thought bitterly. Maybe this is what happens when you try to numb everything. You end up numb to everything.

She let out a sigh, rolling onto her back. Deep down, she knew Jessica was just scared—scared of losing her the same way they'd lost her dad. But the rules felt suffocating, like they were only pushing her closer to the edge instead of pulling her back.