Emma wasn't a stranger to waking up disoriented, but she didn't entirely understand how she found herself lying on a cot. She blinked several times to clear her bleary vision, turning her head this way and that to try and figure out where she was. Emma startled slightly when a face came into view above her head, and she blinked hard to figure out who it was. Oh.
"Hello, Miss Nickels," said Miss Hepburn. Just like Miss Sprout, Miss Hepburn looked concerned, and a frown crossed Emma's face. "How are you feeling?"
Feeling stupid, Emma started to sit upright, but Miss Hepburn planted a firm hand on her shoulder and pushed her back down.
"No, keep laying down, sweetheart," Miss Hepburn said, her tone soothing and calm. "I'm afraid you've given us a bit of a scare. You've been out for a bit."
"What happened?" Emma questioned, rubbing her eyes with a groan. She still felt lightheaded, but a dull throb was slowly making its way through the front of her skull.
"Well, you so kindly passed out in the front of my office," Miss Hepburn said. Though her tone was light, Emma was positive her words were tinged with a heavy amount of sarcasm. "Before I let you get back up, I would like to do some questions, if you don't mind."
"All right," Emma said slowly, wondering what exactly would be asked of her. There were only so many questions she could think of, and none of them seemed like good things to be asked.
"First, I have to ask how you received the bruises that were on your back –"
Oh, fuck, Emma thought to herself. She plastered on her best smile, hoping that she looked more embarrassed than absolutely horrified.
"I fell down the stairs at home the other day," Emma said with a nervous giggle. "I landed pretty hard, but it's okay. I'm perfectly all right. Just had a bit of clumsiness, you know?"
"Hmm," Miss Hepburn hummed to herself. Her lips and her eyes narrowed slightly as she searched Emma's face. It was clear that she didn't believe Emma, but she wasn't about to voice her suspicions. "If you say so, Emma. I'll be right back."
Great, Emma thought to herself, pressing the heels of her palms into her eye sockets. Her day was not going well, and she didn't think it would get any better.
"Here," Emma heard Miss Hepburn say. Emma pulled her hands away from her eyes and looked curiously at what the woman had in her hand.
"Sit up," Miss Hepburn said, setting down two sandwiches and a bottle of water down next to Emma. She placed a hand underneath Emma's shoulder to help her into a sitting position. "I need you to eat, Emma. I believe you fainted because you're not eating and drinking enough. I am not letting you leave until you finish at least one of those sandwiches and that entire bottle of water."
"Oh, but I'm not hungry," Emma said.
"Emma, please don't fight me on this. Please eat; you'll feel better when you do."
Emma practically glowered at the sandwiches sitting next to her but picked one up begrudgingly. She didn't feel hungry at all, the idea of food making her nauseous, but she took a tentative bite. The moment she swallowed her first bite, she realized just how hungry she really was and started salivating at the prospect of having two sandwiches. She wasn't limited to just the one, and Emma was sorely tempted to ask for another once she finished the two that she had. Miss Hepburn gave Emma an appraising and pleased look as Emma continued to eat and left to provide her with a moment of privacy.
After what felt like no time at all, Emma had finished both of her sandwiches and the bottle of water. She still felt a little sick, but the headache that had started to surface had already dulled considerably.
"How are you feeling?" Miss Hepburn asked when she returned to check on Emma.
"I feel better," Emma said brightly. She stretched her arms well over her head with a groan and carefully climbed off of the cot and stood up. A strong wave of lightheadedness hit Emma, and she felt herself start to wobble, but she straightened up quickly. "I feel perfectly fine," Emma added, spinning herself in a slightly off-balanced twirl which she tried to cover with a flourish. "Can I go now?"
"Not so fast," Miss Hepburn said, crossing her arms. "You told Miss Sprout that you forgot to take your medicine this morning; however, we found an empty pill bottle in your backpack. I know that you take a few different medications, but this one had no label, and I'm just a bit concerned you're not taking what you're meant to." Miss Hepburn reached behind her and held out a plastic cup. "I need you to take a drug test for me just to make sure that everything is all right."
"Oh," Emma said in surprise. She took the plastic bottle from Miss Hepburn, holding it away from herself almost as if it would burn her skin from touching it for too long. Emma had been optimistic just moments before, but this was entirely unexpected. "Is this…is this really necessary from me forgetting to take my medication? I have a tendency to just pull the labels off when I'm bored."
"Yes, it's necessary," Miss Hepburn said, waving Emma off towards the bathroom. "It'll only take a few moments of your time. After you do this for me, I'll let you leave."
Emma nodded and gulped, staring at the cup in her hand. She had no desire to take a drug test, unsure of what it would say. Emma didn't think that she was abusing her medications in the least. Perhaps she took a pill or two extra or sometimes forgot if she took a dose of her medicine for the day, but that wouldn't come up in a test, would it? What would happen if the results came back positive for whatever the nurse was looking for? What was the nurse looking for?
"We don't have all day, Emma. I would like to get home at some point today, too," Miss Hepburn said, tone still light but now with an aggravated edge. "Just leave the container on the counter when you're done."
Not wanting to press her luck, Emma decided to do what she was asked. She was nervous the entire time, wasn't sure that she had done things correctly but left the container like she was asked. Emma left the bathroom at break-neck speed, face bright red with her embarrassment.
"Emma, if it's easier for you, I can help set up a regimen to keep you on track with your medication," Miss Hepburn said when Emma walked out of the bathroom.
"That won't be necessary," Emma said, gathering her things as quickly as she could so that she could leave. She gave Miss Hepburn a tight smile. "I'll make sure to start remembering."
Miss Hepburn nodded, returning to gathering her things so that she could head home as well as soon as she was done. Emma was nearly out the door when Miss Hepburn called out to her.
"Oh, Emma, I just wanted to let you know that I called home already, so be sure to take your time getting there. You don't want to push yourself too hard."
That was not the news that Emma wanted to hear. Emma set off at a brisk pace, and the moment she was off school property, she moved much faster than she probably should have.
Emma was running, and she was running as fast as her legs would allow her to move. She started to question herself and whether or not she had a problem as she rushed down the seemingly endless sidewalks back home. Why did the sidewalks seem to extend longer and longer so that she couldn't get back faster? The rain practically dug itself into her skin like sharp knives as she ran, stinging and burning in a way that Emma didn't entirely hate.
Her fainting spell had lasted just a touch longer than was appreciated, and thanks to the nurse checking up on her, she had left school quite late. To make things worse, the nurse had called home to inform the Dursleys that she had become unwell. If that wasn't bad enough, it was Vernon and not Petunia who had picked up the phone, which did not bode well for her.
She braced herself as she rushed into the home through the backdoor. Emma knew that Vernon liked to watch the evening news after work and before dinner and hoped that she would just miss him. Typically Petunia could be found puttering about the kitchen, but Emma was clearly not meant to have any luck.
"Emma, you are late," Vernon roared, storming into the kitchen at a speed that Emma wasn't sure she had seen before. His face was practically purple with rage, and Emma froze in her tracks. "Do you have any explanation for yourself?" Emma opened her mouth to speak, but Vernon grabbed her roughly by the shoulder, leading her out into the hallway.
"Up the stairs, with you!" Vernon shouted, spit flying from his mouth as he shoved her hard towards the stairs. "I don't want to see you again until your homework is finished, and when you're done, we are going to have a little talk about your behavior. You have been extraordinarily rude – and even worse – I was called about your little 'incident' while in the middle of a meeting. What do you think others think of us now?"
Emma opened her mouth the speak once more but was silenced by the look of pure loathing on Vernon's face. He pointed a stubby finger at the stairs, face turning impossibly redder.
"Upstairs now, young lady!" he spat at her. Having already pressed her luck more times than she could count that day, Emma did exactly as Vernon asked.
Emma trudged up the stairs, feeling exhausted. She didn't understand how she could feel so tired after fainting. Wasn't it like an unexpected nap in the middle of the day? She was debating with herself whether or not fainting was the equivalent of taking a nap or not when Harry poked his head around the corner of his room.
"Hey, Emma," Harry said, the grin on his face slipping slightly when he took a good look at her. "Hey, you all right? You look a bit pale."
"Yeah, I'm fine, Harry," Emma said, putting on her best smile and forcing herself to look happy to see him. "Just a long day at school."
An understanding look crossed Harry's face, and he glanced back into his room towards the window. "The weather, right?" Harry asked, his smile returning when Emma nodded in confirmation. "Yeah, I found it hard to focus, too."
Emma knew that was a complete and utter lie. School came naturally to Harry, so naturally it was like breathing for him. She knew that, unlike her, he didn't have to put too much effort into his schoolwork to get good grades. And even when he didn't, he didn't need anywhere near as much help as she did to get things done.
"Well, if you need help with your homework, just yell for me," Harry said.
The two cringed the moment they heard a growl from downstairs. Vernon apparently hadn't returned to his chair in the living room and had been listening the entire time.
"Absolutely not, Harry!" Vernon shouted up the stairs. "Emma needs to do it by herself!"
Harry gave Emma a sympathetic look. "Tough break," he said with a shrug. "Sorry," he added before slipping back into his room.
As hard as Emma tried, she couldn't get herself to focus. She stared hard at her less than half-written English essay sitting in front of her, somewhat proud that she had gotten as far as she did when the words weren't making sense. The rain had finally stopped, and Emma had happily cracked open her window, but the incessant squeaking noise of the trampoline being used outside stuck out. Emma had grown so in tune with the noise that she could start to pick out exactly when Dudley launched himself off the tightly woven fabric and when he would land again. Squeak, pause, squeak, pause….
That didn't even include the noises of the birds or the sound of the television from downstairs, and was that Harry scraping his chair across his floor?
Emma let out a groan, leaning back in her chair and scrubbing her hands over her face in annoyance. She needed a little extra help to get through her work, and she reached down for her backpack to search for her medication. Emma snatched the orange pill bottle out of her bag and shook two pills out and into her hand. She reached over for her glass of water and downed the two pills quickly, already silently counting down the minutes until her medicine would start to work. Even though it would be a fruitless effort, Emma continued to stare at the essay in front of her, tapping her pen on her desk impatiently.
Very slowly, Emma's mind seemed to grow quieter. The noises started to drown out, the loud television nothing more than soft background noise, and the trampoline's squeaking practically non-existent. Emma began to doubt that Harry had been moving any furniture at all. When Emma looked at her essay, the words finally started to make sense, and she let out a long sigh of relief. After an hour of excellent work, if Emma said so herself, she set her essay to the side and decided to work on something different. Her essay was nearly done and wouldn't take long for her to complete, but she almost decided to finish it instead.
"Ugh, math," Emma moaned, glaring down at the numbers (and were those letters?) sitting in front of her and mocking her. She tapped her fingers on her desk, debating with herself on whether or not she could get away with not doing her math homework. Despite her fainting spell earlier, her energy was finally starting to return. She felt jittery and anxious and felt like she needed to do something. All of the running she did earlier had done nothing to burn off any excess energy she could have potentially had.
Emma looked up when she heard a noise just outside her door. She turned her head to find Petunia looking at her.
"Emma, you were home late," Petunia said, her beady eyes studying Emma closely. "Did something happen?"
"No," Emma said quickly. If Petunia didn't know, then Emma wasn't about to say something. She glanced down at the papers in front of her pointedly and gave Petunia an innocent smile. "Do you think I could stop working on my homework?"
"Emma, you know that you need to finish it," Petunia said, her lips pursing with her disapproval. She thought about it for a long moment, pinching the bridge of her nose and then dropping her hand to her side, shaking her head. "But fine, go outside on the trampoline or go for a run – but no longer than 15 minutes. We have to eat soon."
"Okay," Emma replied excitedly. She hopped up from her chair, nearly toppling it over with her delight, dashed past Petunia and down the stairs. She barely even acknowledged Vernon on her way out into the back garden. A smile broke out on Dudley's face when he spotted her.
"Hey, Ems," Dudley said, continuing to bounce. "You joining me?"
"Yes," Emma replied, a wide smile on her face as she scrambled onto the trampoline. She wasn't sure what was wrong with her, but after a few minutes of jumping, Emma decided to sit down. Dudley's brow furrowed, and he continued to jump a few more times before stopping.
"Emma, what's wrong?" Dudley asked in concern. "Did you hurt yourself? Your ankle or something?"
"No, it's fine, Dud," Emma said, rubbing her eyes. "Just tired."
"You? Tired?" Dudley asked in disbelief. "I don't believe it."
Emma started to say something, but Vernon yelled out through the window before she could.
"Emma!" he shouted with a long pause. Emma braced herself for whatever Vernon would say next and wasn't entirely surprised that he didn't bother addressing her further. "Dudley, my boy, come inside! It's dinner time."
Emma and Dudley walked inside, talking quietly to each other. It was always nice that Dudley tended to lower his voice when talking to Emma when she was tired. Dudley could be an absolute terror, but he was kind to her. Dudley sat down in his usual chair, but as Emma went to sit in her normal chair next to him, Vernon grabbed tight to her upper arm.
"Girls who come home late from school don't get to eat," Vernon said, pulling her away from the table and back towards the hallway. "When the school called, they mentioned that your work has been slacking. Get back upstairs and finish your homework, or you will regret it."
"Okay," Emma mumbled, trying to ignore the pangs of hunger in her stomach. She looked back at the kitchen table full of delicious food as Vernon released her from his hold. The only thing she had eaten that day was the sandwiches the nurse gave her, and she didn't think she had much to eat the previous day. She wanted to protest – to kick and scream and cry over wanting to eat, but Emma swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. Crying wouldn't help her case at all with Vernon.
"Ever since she got here, she has been nothing but a misery," Vernon said, his voice carrying well into the hallway as Emma walked towards the stairs. She paused on the first few steps, hugging the wall so she wouldn't be seen. "She's loud, she can't focus, runs around too much – acting like a toddler when she's a teenager. And now she's being a troublemaker in school?"
Emma strained to hear Petunia's voice which was far quieter than Vernon's.
"What happened this time?" Petunia asked, a slightly bitter edge to her voice. Petunia had known that Emma was a troubled child when they took her in, but the guilty part of her knew that she wasn't helping the issue. For the six months they had Emma in their care, the care Emma received wasn't as proper as it should be for a child with her problems.
"Emma is not an easy child to work with," the social worker had told Petunia when she called, asking if there was space for her. "She has ADHD and can't focus for too long. That's not including everything else that she has to deal with. She needs attention and a lot of it, and she needs to be monitored with her medications. Are you sure that you're ready for this one?"
"She's not the first child we've taken, and I've raised my own children," Petunia sniffed. "I think I will be fine, thank you very much!" Petunia had been very offended when the social worker dared to imply that she wasn't going to be able to handle Emma. Vernon had been fantastic with the others, taking them under his wing and guiding them happily along through their troubles. Petunia rarely got a chance to have little girls to foster and dreamed of taking Emma out for sweet dresses and taking her out to get their nails done together. But Petunia had been proven very wrong.
Emma constantly demanded attention – constant vigilance, even. She was an active little monster, getting her hands into anything and everything she could. Emma enjoyed playing as if she had never been able to play before with no filter and the inability to control herself. Within the first month of living with the Dursleys, Emma had destroyed no less than two of Petunia's precious vases. Petunia didn't even want to know how much was secretly broken but hidden by Emma's sneaky hiding.
And then there was school – oh, school was a terror! If Emma had a lot of energy at home, she had even more with school. She needed even more help to be kept on track and to make matters worse, Emma was smart. The girl was intelligent but lacked the focus to sit down and do what she needed to. There were rare moments when Emma could get focused on a task and complete it quickly, but those few instances were few and far between. If it wasn't something that interested her or held her attention, it was going to be a struggle.
Often, either Petunia or Harry would have to sit Emma down and guide her through her work. It was a lot of mental redirection on their part to get Emma to focus, and it took up a lot of their time.
But Vernon's issues with Emma were a completely different problem to deal with. Vernon hated Emma. She was the exact opposite of how he thought a teenage girl should behave, and it frustrated him to no end. He didn't hate Emma in the beginning. It was impossible to hate her at the start when her little quirks were endearing, but then her personality became grating.
Harry and Dudley could handle simple chores with ease, but Emma could burn boiling water if she wanted to. Emma struggled to listen to directions, often doing what she wanted instead of what she was asked. Some days, if Emma really didn't want to do something, she would let her thoughts and opinions be very well known. Petunia wouldn't be at all surprised to hear that half the neighborhood knew what Emma's thoughts were on any given day. Emma screamed her thoughts so loudly and vehemently sometimes that they echoed throughout the house, rattling everyone's brains.
Instead of flourishing under their care like the other children did, as Petunia expected, or quiet down, as Vernon wanted, Emma only got worse.
"Sorry, dear," Petunia said, realizing that Vernon was waiting for her to say something. She shook her head, plastering on a slight smile. "What were you saying?"
"Hmph," Vernon harrumphed. "The school called and said she is struggling and slacking off. She's constantly falling behind in classes. Maybe I should just beat it out of her altogether – get rid of her childish behavior! I'm starting to think it's time that she learns a lesson and finds out how girls her age should behave!"
"Vernon, maybe it would be better if we just brought her back," Petunia said quickly. "You know why we –"
"Absolutely not, Petunia," Vernon said sharply. "That kid is free money for us. We get paid a lot to have her, and we have to put zero effort in to take care of a child – at least the other ones were easy. I'll take care of her. She will learn to behave, and she is staying in this home. That. Is. Final."
"Yes, dear," Petunia said tightly.
Stunned beyond belief, Emma fled up the stairs with fat tears in her eyes, trying to keep her footfalls as quiet as possible as she ran. She didn't understand what she was doing wrong or why they didn't want to keep her. Emma tried to do her best with everything, but she couldn't help herself. She didn't ask to be the way that she was, didn't ask for everything to go wrong all the time. Even though Vernon could be terrible, Emma liked being at the Dursleys and craved the attention Petunia sometimes gave her.
Emma threw herself onto her bed, yanking her bag up with her. She ripped through the bag to find her pills, tipping the bottle over. First one fell, then another, and, well, a third wouldn't make a difference, would it? It wasn't like it really mattered in the end.
She fished through her bag for the rest of her homework. Emma pulled out her biology book and tossed it on her bed, not wanting to work on the math homework right away. Perhaps looking at words again and trying to read would be a little easier than numbers. However, after trying to read about muscles for an hour, the noises started to pick up, and her stomach was starting to growl. She clutched hard to her stomach, moaning quietly at the noise her empty belly was making. If anyone was looking for a dying whale, all they had to do was head to her room.
There was a sudden knock at Emma's door, and her head snapped up, wondering what was about to happen. Emma felt herself tense up, almost painfully, worried that Vernon would be the one to come through the door. Normally he wouldn't knock, instead barging in without a care, but if Petunia had anything to say….
"Emma, are you decent?"
It was Petunia's voice that came from the other side of the door. Emma let out a small breath of relief, relaxing slightly.
"No," Emma shouted back, grimacing at her own response. "Yes," she said instead. "Sorry, had to think about what you said." Petunia slowly cracked open Emma's door, her head peering in. She studied Emma for a long moment, lips pursing once more.
"Here," Petunia said, tossing an apple onto Emma's bed. "Eat this." Petunia looked as though she was about to say something else but closed the door behind her instead.
Emma stared at the closed door in surprise, unsure of what to do. Rather than thinking too hard about it, she picked up the apple and bit into it. It wasn't going to be enough to ease the ache in her stomach entirely, but it was something. Perhaps it would make getting through her homework just a little bit easier.
With just a little bit of food in her belly, Emma was able to get through the reading she needed to do for biology. She looked over at her desk with a groan – that meant she had to return to working on her math homework. With a heavy sigh, Emma pulled herself out of bed to sit back at her desk. She swore the numbers on the page in front of her only seemed to laugh at her once more.
Emma wasn't sure how much time had passed, but she was still working on her homework. The sky outside Emma's window had long since grown dark, and she was growing tired, but if she kept going just a little bit longer, she felt she could finish. She was in the middle of completing her English essay when she was startled out of her thoughts. Emma jumped in her chair with a quiet yelp as her door suddenly rattled in its frame.
"Emma, for God's sake, it's 11 PM," she heard Vernon shout from the hallway. "Turn off your light, or so help me, you will regret it."
It took Emma a minute to get her bearings straight. She chewed on her lower lip, wondering if she should try and make a mad dash to the toilet, but if Vernon was awake, it wasn't worth it. Not wanting to upset Vernon further, Emma quickly changed into a clean pair of pajamas, turned out the light, and tried to go to sleep.
Even though she was entirely unaware of it, Emma must have fallen asleep at some point. Her entire night had been plagued with nightmares, leaving her feeling on edge when she finally woke up. When she woke up with cold and wet sheets, she thought nothing of it until her brain caught up with her and she realized what had happened.
"Shit," Emma hissed to herself. "Fucking fuckity fuck. Emma, why?"
She let out an aggravated sigh, pulling back her sheets and glaring at her damp legs. It was the second accident that she had that week, and Vernon would murder her if she didn't hide the evidence. Her eyes stung with frustrated tears as she pulled herself out of bed to change.
Vernon had been yelled at by Petunia the last time he had commented on her having an accident, but Emma knew the look he would give her. She still remembered Vernon's comments about how she wasn't a child any longer, and she needed to grow up. But it wasn't her fault that Vernon made it so difficult for her to take care of her needs.
Getting changed was an easy task. The sky was beginning to lighten up, and Emma took a quick look at her clock. If she was careful and quick about it, she could get everything washed before everyone was actually awake. She briefly considered changing into another pair of pajamas, but the sheets needed to be taken care of first.
Emma ripped her sheets off the bed, balling them up and throwing them on the floor. She crept over to her door, took a look out into the hallway to make sure no one was up, and practically sprinted to the linen closet. Overjoyed that she was going to get away without anyone knowing what happened, Emma yanked open the door to grab new sheets – only to find out there were no fresh sheets left.
With a whine, Emma checked every single barren shelf in the closet, sure that there had to be something for her. She tried to run through that week's schedule and tried to remember when Petunia would do laundry next and groaned. The bedding wouldn't be washed until the next day, and the previous week's bedding hadn't been done just yet. They had all gone out for the day but left Emma at home because she didn't do her chores, but she got distracted and forgot to do the laundry as asked. Petunia decided that it would be better to just wait and wash it all at the same time so everything would be cleaned. Emma never regretted a decision more.
She turned to stare down the long hallway with a groan. The only option left was to try and get Petunia up and see if she could help. Emma felt her cheeks grow hotter and hotter as she walked towards Petunia and Vernon's room. She paused near her room, wanting to change into something dry, but it felt pointless if she didn't have clean sheets. What if she wanted to lie in a bit longer? Forcing herself to continue her self-inflicted torture, Emma continued down the hall.
Emma carefully opened the door to Petunia and Vernon's room, grateful that the door didn't squeak as it usually did. Vernon's snores were loud, even if it did. Emma was reminded of a very overgrown walrus with how the light coming in past the curtains touched Vernon's mustache, and she had to stifle her giggle. How had she never noticed it before? She crept towards Petunia's side of the bed, biting her lip hard to keep herself from making too much noise.
"Petunia," Emma whispered, giving the woman a shake. She glanced up at Vernon as he snorted in his sleep and rolled over. When Petunia didn't wake, Emma gave her another shake and spoke a little louder. "Petunia!"
Petunia woke with a start, shooting Emma an aggravated look. "What do you –" Petunia's words died in her throat as she took a good look at Emma. Emma shifted nervously under Petunia's gaze, and Petunia sighed, sitting up and motioning for Emma to move. "All right, I'll take care of it," she said. "Go get yourself in the shower and changed into fresh pajamas. Vernon didn't see you last night, so he'll never know what you were wearing."
Emma nodded and let Petunia shove her back out into the hallway and to her room. She blushed furiously as Petunia started to gather the bedding while Emma grabbed fresh pajamas. Emma started to leave her room to head to the shower but stopped in the doorway and looked back at Petunia.
"I'm sorry," Emma said quietly. Petunia just let out a quiet noise and waved Emma off instead. Emma wondered if it was better off that way. She shuffled across the hall to the bathroom and turned on the shower, letting the water warm up before stepping in. Emma was starting to feel a little more optimistic about the day despite the rough start; it would be a good day. She hummed the song stuck in her head softly to herself as she washed her hair. The longer she stayed under the water, the better she felt.
At least until she heard Vernon's roar of rage from the hallway. Perhaps it wasn't going to be a good day after all.
