Emily returned home two days later, her body sore, wrapped in gauze and painkillers. Her arms were covered in fresh bandages, and every step reminded her of what had happened. But nothing stung more than what greeted her at home.
Her mother barely looked up from the kitchen counter.
"You're back," she said flatly, slicing carrots.
Emily's lips parted, hoping — begging — for concern, for warmth, for anything that resembled motherly love.
"I was in the hospital," she said quietly, her voice cracking.
Her mother shrugged. "You get into trouble, you deal with it. Don't drag this family into shame. What if the neighbors find out?"
Emily blinked. "I… I was burned. They tied me up, Mom. They hurt me."
"You must've provoked them somehow," her mother muttered.
Emily stared at her, stunned. Her father hadn't visited. Her mother didn't ask questions. And her five-year-old sister, Lily, had only been allowed to wave at her from a distance — "She doesn't need to see your drama," her mother had said.
That night, Emily curled up in her bed, her back aching from the bandages, her heart aching from the silence in the house. Even painkillers couldn't numb this.
⸻
The next day at school, everything was worse.
Vanessa walked into the hallway like nothing had happened — laughing with her friends, flipping her perfect blonde hair, and acting like the police weren't involved just days ago.
She locked eyes with Emily.
Her smile vanished.
In the bathroom, Vanessa cornered her. "You called the cops on me?"
"I didn't— I didn't call anyone. Someone found me," Emily stammered.
"Liar," Vanessa spat, shoving her hard into the sink. "Do you know what my mother had to do to make this go away?"
Emily gripped the edge of the sink. "You hurt me. You burned me."
"You're still talking?" Madison sneered, entering the bathroom. Chloe followed silently, guilt flickering in her eyes, but she said nothing. Jason was outside — always watching, never helping.
This time, they didn't use a rod.
They dumped an entire bottle of shampoo over Emily's head, then pushed her onto the wet bathroom floor. Vanessa grabbed a pair of scissors and snipped a lock of Emily's long, dark hair.
"Next time, I'll shave it all off," she hissed.
Emily trembled.
Every time she stood, they found new ways to knock her down.
But something inside her was starting to burn hotter than the rod Brooke had used.
It wasn't anger yet. Not quite. It was something deeper.
A question.
What if this never ends? What if no one helps?
When she walked out of that bathroom, drenched, shaking, and humiliated, she noticed Lucas watching from the end of the hallway. He didn't say anything — not yet — but his eyes followed her like he finally saw what no one else would admit.
That night, Emily didn't sleep.
Not from pain.
But from the realization that she was completely alone.
And if no one was coming to save her…
Maybe one day, she'd have to save herself.