Love Admits Deceit

Hidden Bruises

The next morning, after Emma finished tidying up the house and cooking breakfast, the front door creaked open. Her father stumbled in, a bottle in hand, the sharp scent of alcohol trailing him. His eyes locked onto Emma with a sneer, his voice slurred but dripping with venom.

"You little bastard," he spat, his gaze shifting briefly to her mother, who was standing near the sink, trembling. "Go on, tell her the truth, you lying witch."

Emma's heart clenched as her mother, her face pale and eyes wide, tried to speak, her voice weak and faltering. But before she could utter a word, her father, now seething, lifted the bottle high in a fit of rage. Time seemed to slow as he hurled it across the room, aiming for her mother.

Without thinking, Emma moved in front of her mom, shielding her. The bottle smashed into her wrist with a sickening thud, the sharp pain shooting through her arm as it shattered on the floor. She bit her lip, holding back the tears, determined not to show any weakness.

Her father barely even looked at her. He just hissed in disgust, stumbling back toward the door, and muttered under his breath, "You’re not worth my time," before slamming it shut as he left.

Emma stood there, clutching her wrist, her mother rushing to her side with a pained look. "Emma..." her mother whispered, her voice cracking, "I’m so sorry."

But Emma just shook her head, trying to steady her breathing. She wasn’t going to let him break her, not again.

As the door slammed shut behind her father, his words echoed in Emma's mind—bastard... lying witch. The insults felt different this time, heavier, as if they carried some hidden weight. Emma glanced at her mother, who was still trembling, eyes filled with guilt.

"What did he mean?" Emma asked quietly, trying to make sense of the chaos. "Why did he call you a lying witch? And me... a bastard?"

Her mother froze, her hands wringing nervously. "He's just drunk, Emma," she replied, her voice unsteady, eyes darting away. "You know how he gets."

But Emma caught the shift in her mother’s expression, the way her voice wavered more than usual. She felt the tension beneath her words. For a moment, Emma wanted to press her, to demand the truth, but something in her mother’s eyes—a mix of fear and pain—made her stop.

"Alright," Emma said, her voice flat, choosing to drop the subject for now. Even though a part of her knew something was wrong, she couldn’t bring herself to push further. Not yet.

She turned back to the broken shards on the floor, silently cleaning up the mess, her wrist still throbbing from where the bottle had hit her. Her mother watched her in silence, clearly relieved that Emma wasn’t asking any more questions, though the air between them hung heavy with unspoken words.

---

As Emma entered the school, the throbbing pain in her wrist pulsed beneath the bandage. She pushed through the halls, trying to block out the memories of her father's drunken rage. Spotting Ethan, Jake, and Mia at their usual spot, she hesitated for a moment before forcing herself to walk over.

“Hey, Emma!” Ethan greeted her, his expression shifting to concern as he noticed the bandage on her wrist. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Emma replied, perhaps a bit too quickly. She felt a mix of annoyance and gratitude at his concern. “It’s just a stupid accident.”

“An accident that looks painful,” Jake chimed in, his eyes darting between them. “You didn’t miss class, did you?”

“No, I didn’t miss class,” Emma said, rolling her eyes. “I’m fine, really.”

Ethan stepped a little closer, lowering his voice. “You don’t look fine. I’ve seen people with less serious injuries than that. Did someone do this to you?”

Emma felt her heart race at the implication, but she shook her head. “No one did anything to me. Just… drop it, okay?”

“But I’m just worried about you,” Ethan said, his voice softening. “You can talk to me, you know.”

She sighed, trying to keep her irritation in check. “I appreciate it, but I really don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“Alright,” he said, hands raised in surrender, though the worry didn’t leave his eyes. “Just remember, I’m here if you change your mind.”

As Ethan turned to Jake and Mia, Emma couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of annoyance and appreciation for his persistence. Despite everything, his concern lingered in the back of her mind as she headed to class, feeling both grateful for his friendship and frustrated that she couldn’t fully let him in.

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