There's a thin line between hate and love

Chapter 2

Shadows of the Past
As the moon cast its gentle glow upon the slumbering town, Emily left Katarina's house for home. Her mom should be back to the house, that's if she wasn't already out again for whatever other business she had. Her head felt like someone was smashing it from both temples. She got home, and as expected, the house was empty. Locking the door behind her, she dragged herself to her bedroom and crashed on the bed.
Her body was gradually heating up with every passing minute. Had she really eaten? She did a mental walkthrough her entire day and could only recall a morsel here and there. Nothing really tangible to call food. Maybe, just maybe, the headache was her body's way of revolting for keeping it starved. It wouldn't be the first time after all.
Soon, she found herself drifting back into the depths of her memories, her mind painting vivid scenes of years ago. If there was one peculiar thing about her, it was the trips her mind and imagination took at every given free time. And such was the case now. The moment she laid down with nothing to do with her hands and feet, her mind traveled far.
Katarina always teased her that she was the perfect art machine. You could become anything, Emily, was Kat's constant nudge. It wowed her best friend how Emily's mind worked painting stunning pictures with her brush which sent heads reeling in awe. Or was it how she could become so lost in her head and when she told anyone how far her mind had traveled, they

wanted to hear more. Come on, you're too perfect. And that's one thing she loved about Katarina; always jovial and full of encouraging spirit.
Perhaps she'd consider writing one day too, if, and only if she lost the touch for her first love because for her, life was art and art was life. It was her therapist and muse. The one thing that made her not feel broken, aside from Katarina.
There was a time she remembered when nothing was broken in her life. But now she could only interact with fragmented pieces of her past that had shaped her into the young woman she had become.
Emily's mind traveled to a time when she was a wide-eyed child, innocence still intact despite the shadows that loomed over her family. She was only six when her father's involvement in a gang fight led him down a path of incarceration. The weight of his absence pressed heavily upon her young shoulders, and the scars of his choices etched themselves upon her heart. She still found herself defending his innocence.
The memory of tearful goodbyes and prison bars haunted her, a bittersweet reminder of a father lost to the clutches of his own demons. She recalled the mixture of confusion and heartache that accompanied the news of his passing within those cold prison walls, leaving a void that could never be filled. She was twelve at the time and she had been summoned to the principal's office where she met her mother, teary eyed and her principal, old Mr. John Paul telling her she would be fine and that she would do well in life.
With her father's absence, Emily's mother, Laura, struggled to navigate the turbulent waters of single parenthood. She sought solace and companionship in the arms of various men who came and went like fleeting whispers in their lives. The unpredictability of her mother's romantic entanglements became a constant source of unease for Emily.

Sometimes, she would dismiss her mom's misbehaviours by defending them as her coping mechanism. Everyone had a way of processing loss, she believed. Her mother was inclusive. But the years have dealt her such a forceful blow that she wasn't sure what she believed anymore.
One particular memory resurfaced—the scene of a chaotic woman, dishes clattering in the sink, and raised her voice piercing the air. Emily, no older than eight, stood hidden in the shadows of the hallway, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and frustration. The weight of her mother's irresponsibility hung heavy in the air.
Laura's voice rang out, laced with desperation and a tinge of regret. "You can't keep doing this, Laura." Rick said. "Emily deserves better. You deserve better."
Rick, the latest in a string of men who had entered their lives then, exhaled sharply. His voice, tinged with impatience, cut through the tense atmosphere. "You're always making excuses, Laura. I'm here for you and your daughter, but you need to step up and take responsibility."
The words echoed in Emily's mind, each syllable a painful reminder of the instability that plagued her home. The internal turmoil grew stronger, her young mind grappling with questions that had no easy answers. How could she find stability when the very foundation of her world seemed to crumble with each passing day?
But Rick was one of the good ones, perhaps the only good one Emily remembered. He used to buy her gifts and chat with her on some evenings when he came visiting and saw her sitting alone on the swing in the yard. If there was one thing she vividly remembers, it was him sharing in her love for nature.
But one day when Rick came visiting, he came up to Emily's room and said he was going away to attend to some business. He asked her to stay close to her mother and that he'd call her. She didn't fully grasp his meaning until