Welcome to the family || Johnnie Guilbert story

Fuck - Chapter 7

Emily's P.O.V

I lay there, half-conscious against the cool tiles of the bathroom floor, the faded blue of the walls swirling around me like some weird dream. There was a heaviness in the air, an emotional weight that pressed down on my chest, constricting my breath. I could hear the distant hum of the world outside.

I pulled a shaky hand to my face, feeling the slick warmth of the crimson beneath. I didn't want to believe I had spiraled out of control again, but the truth lay stark and undeniable around me.

"Emily!" My mom's frantic voice broke through my haze. The door swung open, and her eyes widened, the terror in them mirrored what I felt inside. "Oh my God! What have you done?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't find the words amidst the fog of embarrassment and anger. But that fury spiraled as I saw her reaction. Did she really think I'd tried to take the easy way out? I was just... lost again, and somewhere between the cutting and the chaos, I'd forgotten where I was.

"Call 911, please!" Her voice was feverish, and I heard her hurried steps retreating, her phone already dialing. I closed my eyes, letting the darkness wash over me, hoping it would consume me whole.

Hours later, when i woke up again, I found myself wrapped in a hospital blanket, the antiseptic scent pricking my nose. My mom sat across from me in the sterile room, her eyes swollen from crying.

"Emily," she began carefully. "They said you tested positive for Molly."

My stomach turned. The drugs was supposed to be the "happy" pills, the escape, something to drown out the pain, something I never intended to touch. It felt like a betrayal, but I knew I didn't have anyone to blame but myself.

"I didn't mean to," I muttered, almost a whisper. "I just wanted to feel... something else."

Her brow knitted in distress. "You wouldn't have had to if you'd just talked to me! I can't protect you anymore if this is how you're dealing with your feelings, Emily!"

Her words stung, and I didn't want to excuse myself. I wanted to lash out, to throw things, to break something. "You don't understand! You have no idea what it's like! You think I'm just some problem you can fix?"

"I'm trying to help you, but I don't know how!" She threw her hands up, frustration leaking through the cracks of despair. "I can't do this alone!"

I swallowed hard, the weight of her words sinking in, but before I could respond, she reached for her phone again. "I need to call Johnnie," she said, her voice trembling. "Maybe he can help."

"Johnnie?" The name felt weird on my tongue after all this. I'd hardly ever met him over the years, and now my mom was gonna call him, asking him to help me. And i knew my mom wasn't the closest to him either, I couldn't believe she was actually going to call him.

"Yes, he..." She paused, biting her lip, "I just think he can take care of you better than I can right now."

"Take care of me?" I shot back, the defiance bubbling over. "You want to send me away to a 'stranger'? What about me? Are you really just going to wash your hands of me when I need you the most?"

Her gaze softened, and I could see pain dancing in her eyes. "I'm scared for you, Emily. I can't keep watching you hurt yourself... I can't."

"You think running away is the answer?" My voice shook with hurt, disbelief pouring out alongside it. "Do you think he's going to know what to do when i lash out? When i cut? I don't have anything against him, but i don't wanna live with him! I want to be here with you!"

My mom looked at me, her gaze heavy, filled with a mixture of helplessness and love that broke my heart all over again. "It's better then letting the cops take you, I don't know what else to do. I feel like I'm losing you."

I wanted to scream, to run, to make her see me, truly see me, but instead, I sank back against the pillow. The room felt suffocating. The realization that I might not have a choice hung above us like a storm cloud, dark and palpable.

"Please, Emily," she said softly, "This isn't about abandoning you. It's about helping you. If you don't want to be in the psych ward again, you need to give this a chance."

Silence hung between us, thick like the air before a tempest. Part of me ached for her, to feel her presence near me again, to be safe in her love. But the anger was there, bubbling just beneath the surface, making me feel trapped.

"I don't want to go," I whispered, looking away, the tears I fought so hard to hold back now spilling over.

"I know," she replied gently. "But if you stay here, I can't protect you from yourself."

And then she just stood up and walked out of the room.

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