A/N: Hey all, the first few chapters will be back round, but will be important to read. Some Reagan's will be in them occasionally. I'm going to tell you right now that in this chapter Emily will seem very smart for her age, but let me tell you now it is possible in her situation. Jamie Reagan doesn't come in until Chapter 14/15. I would suggest reading every chapter up to that though or else things mentioned later on in the story will not make sense. Have fun!
Emily POV
11 years old
I listened to my dad screaming at my mom in the other room while I sat holding my siblings to me, trying to cover their ears. Kate, my younger sister, was crying. Sam, my younger brother and the middle child, was trying to hide his sniffles. We heard glass break, and we all jumped. I shushed my siblings, and prayed that it would end. I was shivering in fear. Then we heard footsteps.
Kate started crying louder, "Don't let him come in here Emmie." She was four, and had a speech problem.
I nodded my head and looked at the bedroom door, "I won't Katie. The door's locked." I paused as the footsteps stopped outside my door. Quickly I covered Sam's and Katie's mouths as I held my breath. Maybe if Dad didn't hear us he wouldn't come in. We waited a minute, and Dad walked on. I let out my breath, and let go of my siblings. I crawled out of the bed, and sat on the floor by the door. "Ok you two, you know the drill."
Sam nodded and wiped his eyes, "We sleep on the bed and wake you up if we hear anything, even Mom."
I gave him a small smile, "Right Sam. How'd you get so smart?" I gently ruffled his hair, and he just wiped it back to the way it was. I tried not to laugh.
The next day we didn't have school so I let them sleep in. I slipped out of the door quietly and moved the coffee table slightly so I would hear if the door opened. Sam would just brush it on his way out the door. I hated to do it to Sam, but I also needed to know where he was.
I walked along the rug so Mom couldn't hear me. I didn't even know if she was up yet, but I knew we'd need breakfast soon. I looked in the fridge, and saw we hardly had any milk left. I reached up to the freezer, and finally gave up. I grabbed the step and brought it over. I peeked into the freezer, and saw we only had waffles. I'd give some to Katie and Sam first, and then see what we had left.
I tried to ignore my stomach growling as I put the waffles in the toaster; ignore the delicious smell. There wasn't enough food for me to eat this morning. When the food was done I crept back to my room, Sam and Kate were still asleep. I left the plate of food on the floor next to the bed, and went to find Mom.
Right as I was about to go into the living room, I heard voices. I hid in the corner behind the doorway, and feared it was my dad. Then I realized it wasn't a voice I recognized. I stayed to listen though.
"Henry, I can't. What about the kids?"
I peered around the corner and saw my mother talking to a police officer. He looked kind of old. "Take them with you. It's the only way you'll survive."
"He'd kill us all if he ever found out."
The man seemed to think for a few moments, "I'm not a street officer anymore. I can't always be the one to respond to the domestic disturbance calls."
My mother bowed her head and continued. Her Italian accent flowed through, "I can't. He'd kill my babies."
"What if I have my son, Francis, help you? He's doing very well in the police department now."
My mom shook her head, and stifled a sob, "No, no, no. It'll be better if I just go. He hasn't hurt them yet, he won't hurt them if I'm gone." Apparently I had hid my bruises from my mother better than I suspected.
I started to cry as I thought about my mom leaving us. It was hard enough getting my dad away from Sam and Kate with her here, how could I do it with her gone? She tries to protect us as much a she can, but it doesn't always work. Does she think it will just stop if she leaves?
Three weeks later, my father killed her as she tried to leave him. Somehow he made it look like self defense; that she attacked him. The same police officer was at the house the day she died. At the funeral he gave me his number saying I could call him if I ever needed to. Dad tore that paper up when we got home. We were fine for a few weeks, until my dad started drinking again. He started beating me not long after. There were few times when I could defend myself.
It wasn't until three years later, when he started to hit Katie and Sam, that we were put into foster care.