When I arrived at Emily's house, I could finally take off my sweatshirt once I got in her room. She is the only one who would understand. She was the only one I would ever tell. She moved some things around so that I could fit in the room.
"Sometime I would like to show you something special, just you and me."
I nodded slowly. We went and sat on her bed. "How's it going at home?" she asked. I scoffed. "That place will never be my home. A home is where you can express yourself without having to pretend or hide. A home is where I belong. And I don't belong there." She nodded.
"I wish that I could find the place that I feel whole, the place that I can't disturb anyone doing what I want. That would be my home." I looked around her room. The baby blue walls, the art, and the pictures of her with her family. The bed, the closet, everything seemed more like a place that you live in, not the room where your parents keep you. All of this seemed to be a dream, compared to my dank room with a single piece of furniture, a mattress. Its springs had poked me every night, reminding me of the glass that had scraped my skin the day my parents died.
"Do you want something to drink?" Emily asked me.
Emily knows my situation. She supports me, and that's more than I could ask for. I wish I could say the same for my adoptive parents. They can never know. And they never will.
Emily came back in with a glass of water. We sat down and talked for a while. She asked her parents if I could stay the night, knowing that I didn't want to go back to that place. We stayed up and talked about what I was considering doing. I thought that I might run away. It might work if she supported me and if I timed it just right.
We got to work in the morning.
YOU ARE READING
Blinding
FantasyBright light. That is the one thing she cant get out of her head. There was a boom, and then all went dark.
