Broken Cycle

Chapter Five

Carrie called and invited me to her house. So I told my family bye, packed a bag, and went to Carrie's. She didn't live too far away. Grandma Rose had come too close to opening my feelings suitcase. How did she do that? I wasn't sure, but it wasn't good.

When I made it to Carrie's, I kept knocking till she answered. I smiled and she let me in. Her parents were sitting on the couch watching TV. They looked at me and waved.

"Hey, Emma," Carrie's mom said.

Carrie's dad waved at me and I waved back.

"What's new?" She asked.

"Nothin," I shrugged.

"You girls have fun," she said and I followed Carrie to her room.

"So how was the party?" Carrie asked.

"Good," I shrugged. "How's your weekend been?"

"Good. Mom and I did so many things yesterday! And church was great. As always," she laughed.

"That's good," I said.

"Emma, what's wrong?" She asked.

I looked down and opened my evil phone. Texts telling me to kill myself popped up, more slur shaming was on Facebook, and continued on Twitter. I showed Carrie.

"What?" She asked as she took my phone. She started scrolling through it and found all of the nasty hate messages. "Emma, how long has this been going on?"

"Feels like forever," I said.

"We have to do something," she gave me my phone.

"Like what? No one would actually do anything. It'd be a slap on the wrist, a written apology, and bam. Done," I said.

"But we can't let the bullies win," she said.

"It doesn't matter," I shook my head.

"Emma--"

"Look, Carrie. I don't want to do anything about it. I don't like talking about my feelings. You know that. I don't want to be sent to a counselor," I said.

"Is this why you act out all the time?" She asked.

"Part of it," I admitted. "Can we not talk about this anymore?"

"Alright," she nodded. "Wanna go walking?"

"Sure," I nodded and we walked out the front door.

We walked down the sidewalk and cars kept driving by. This wasn't anything new. A guy slowed his car down to get a good look at me. He looked like he was in his early thirties or late twenties.

"Quit staring," Carrie whispered. "He looks shady."

"I have his eyes," I said as he drove off.

"What?" She asked.

"Carrie, I think that was the guy that hurt my mom. I think that's my bio dad," I said.