Author's Note: This fan fiction takes place in Emma's senior year at Degrassi, what would be season 6. Credit for the title goes to the band Straylight Run, for their song "Another Word For Desperate". Please review with what you think!

Chapter 1

Fade in to a view of a dark bedroom. "So this is what it's like. Losing control, losing everything." The scene cuts to a photo, lying on a carpeted floor. It shows a girl of about 15 or 16 with blond hair and bangs. Written across in black marker is one word: BEFORE. Cut to a shot of an open notebook. Before the scene changes again, there is just enough time for the viewer to read the page; a record of what someone had eaten that day. The scenes change more quickly now. A glimpse of a girl's body from the neck down, too skinny dressed in clothes too big. Now another photo, of the same blond girl as before. Her hair and bangs have both grown out; she looks about a year older. Next to her stands a teenage boy with his arms around her waist. They both smile, but it seems posed and fake. The scene shifts again, to show two beds in a room. One empty, the other with a dark-haired teenage girl asleep in it. Finally, the scene cuts back to the first girl. Slowly, the camera is raised until her entire face is visible. "Welcome to my life."

Emma turned off the video camera, after watching the video clip for the third time that day. She'd filmed it last night, while Manny and everyone else was asleep. Late night had become the only time she had to herself, and even then she only had the nights Peter didn't come. In a house of five people, there always seemed to be someone wherever she was. And it was worse now than ever. Her whole family, except for Jack, treated her as if she might break any moment.

She sighed, and turned the camera back on to replay the video. It wasn't amazing, and she had never meant for it to be. It wasn't art. It was more like a diary for her, only it showed everything she could never put into words. Or at least it would. She had just the beginning done now, the introduction to her story. Once the clip ended, she turned the camera off again. She put it back on the shelf in her room, making sure to take out the video tape first.

Emma snapped the rubber bands she wore against her wrist, as she held the tape in one hand. She used the rubber bands to help her deal with stress, kind of like how Ellie used them to stop cutting. And right now, Emma was definitely stressed. She needed to find somewhere to hide her tape. Emma didn't want Manny or her parents watching it. It was her story on that tape, not theirs. And she wasn't ready to share it. In the same way a diary was, her video was only meant to be seen by her.

So a hiding place had to be found, and fast. Emma glanced at the clock. Peter would be over in just five minutes, knocking on her window so she could sneak out with him. Emma stuffed the tape under her mattress just in time. She heard him at the window just as she'd let go of the tape. Emma walked to the window, to open it for Peter.

"Shh... My parents might still be awake, so we have to be really quiet tonight. I'm just going to grab my sweater, and then I'll be ready," Emma whispered to her boyfriend.

She grabbed a sweatshirt off the floor, and pulled it over her tiny halter top. It was so large on her that when she wore it, the mini skirt underneath was hardly visible. But it was warm, which was what mattered. The nights were getting colder as autumn began, but Peter still loved to see her in the same skimpy outfits only appropriate for summer weather. She slipped out the window, and into Peter's arms.

The nights always started out perfect like this. Peter would wrap his arms around her thin body, and kiss her softly. They'd just hold each other for a few minutes, but it would never last long enough for Emma. Tonight was like any other night, and before long Peter was trying to sweet talk her out of her sweatshirt.

"But I'll freeze... Tonight's the coldest night so far," Emma protested.

"I'll keep you warm," Peter promised, moving his lips down to her neck, covering it in light kisses. At the same time, his hands moved down to the hem of her sweatshirt, and he started to lift it up.

By now, Emma knew that any arguing she did would be pointless. Peter knew how to get what he wanted. She let him pull the sweatshirt over her head and off her body. As Emma watched it drop to the ground, she moved closer to his body for warmth.

"Come on," Peter whispered into her ear. "If your parents are still awake, they'll see us here."

Emma nodded, and followed Peter as he pulled her by the wrist towards the back of her house. It was the one wall without any windows, the perfect place for them to make out at night. Peter backed Emma up against the wall, and began to kiss her. It was more forceful now; like it always was once they were where her parents couldn't see. Peter kissed her hard, his hands on her waist keeping her from pulling away. Emma surrendered her body to him for the moment, until she felt his hands making their way under her shirt.

"Peter... Stop," she whispered, reaching for his hands to pull them away.

In a matter of seconds, Peter had his hands tightly wrapped around Emma's wrists to keep her from moving his hands away. Emma knew she could expect bruises there tomorrow. It was always like this, she didn't know why she tried to stop him anymore.

"Don't tell me what to do." His grip tightened on her wrists, and he pushed her arms up against the wall.

"Peter, please. You're hurting me." She tried to move away from him, but he was holding her there too tightly.

"You love me, don't you? Don't you love me Emma?"

"Of course," she whispered, tears in her eyes. "Of course I love you Peter."

She knew it was the end of the argument, he'd won. He released her wrists and slipped his hands under her shirt again. Emma fought back the tears about to roll down her cheeks, and closed her eyes tightly. She told herself that Peter was right. She loved him; it was okay for him to touch her. But deep down, she knew it wasn't true. It wasn't right for it to happen like this. The part of herself saying this was the same part of her that, every night, asked him to stop. Even when she had long since realized it would never work. Peter would get what he wanted, nothing she said or did could stop him.