Emily Freedman POV

How exactly do you say goodbye to your childhood home? How do you look at the only place you've ever known, and know that you will never come back?

"Are you sure you're gonna be ok?" Diego asks, his arm snaking around my shoulders. As per usual, I flinch at his touch. It's not just contact with Diego that I can't tolerate, it's contact with anyone.

Diego Felipe is probably the closest thing I've ever had to a boyfriend. And by that, I mean he's had a crush on me since we were five and I've never reciprocated the feelings. Sure, we've kissed a couple of times, but never anything intimate. It's just never felt…okay.

But we've grown up together. He and his grandmother moved next door when we were in kindergarten and we've been friends ever since. Mrs. Felipe is like the grandmother I never had. Although she barely speaks any English, she's always been like family to me.

"I don't know," I murmur, fighting back the tears that are about to escape. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry. "I guess it just hasn't hit me yet."

"You know you can always stay with us, right? Nana would love it if you stayed with us. She would be so happy as long as you cooked for us like twice a week," Diego tells me, like this is the most brilliant plan he's ever come up with.

I look away and smile bitterly at the old tile on the kitchen floor.

"I don't think I have much choice in the matter. I haven't had a choice in any of this," I say, getting a little bit agitated. "I mean first I get stuck with shitty parents living in a shitty city with a shitty life. And as if that wasn't shitty enough, now that life is being ripped away from me. I don't want to move to Seattle. I don't want to meet my stupid brother, or his stupid wife. I don't want to meet new people and go to a new school and have to explain myself to people," I cry, the tears finally rolling my cheeks. This is the first time I've cried since my father has died.

"Hey, Em, it's all going to be ok. You're getting out of here. This is what we've always talked about. You're free now," Diego says, gripping both of my shoulders with his hands. He stares into my eyes for a few seconds and I fear he might kiss me again.

It's not that there's anything wrong with Diego. He has perfect tan skin, a big white smile, and these deep brown eyes that pierce your soul. But I've never allowed myself to have feelings for anyone. It's entirely too dangerous for everyone involved.

Diego senses my hesitation and drops his hands. He shakes his head twice, and then pulls me into one of his warm hugs.

"I'll always love you, Emily. And if you ever need anything…well I'm here," Diego's voice breaks and he pulls away.

He stares at me again for a few seconds and then smiles.

"Don't forget about me with your West Coast life, okay?" he jokes, before he grabs my hand for a second and squeezes.

For some odd reason, this only makes me cry more. Diego is the only real friend I've ever had. It's not that I'm weird or stuck up, I've just always had a hard time connecting with my peers. When they drank to have fun, I drank to forget about my life. When they danced at parties, I retreated into corners. But Diego was always there with me.

"I love you too, Di. Maybe you can come visit me or something," I smile, wiping the tears from my eyes.

He gives me one of his award winning smiles. "Definitely."

"Besides, if this new brother of mine is anything like the other men in my family, then I have no interest in meeting him, so I probably won't last that long out there anyway. In fact, I hope he never comes," I sniffle, trying to be optimistic about my life being uprooted.

But before Diego can respond, someone clears his throat behind me.

"That's unfortunate then," an unfamiliar voice mutters.

I turn around and I'm suddenly starring into the piercing grey eyes of my brother.

Christian Grey P.O.V.

She looks like me. Not exactly, or any shit like that. But we have the same eyes. And although her hair is a bit darker it has the same copper tint as my own.

Emily stares at me for a second, her facial expression alternating between one of hurt, confusion, and finally anger.

"Who are you?" she asks. So she's trying to feign confusion.

"I'm Christian Grey, Emily. But I was hoping you would have figured that out," I say dryly. I have no desire to play head games with a sixteen year old. The sooner we get home, the sooner they can find somewhere more suitable for her to stay. Nothing personal, but I don't have a desire to play daddy to some high school brat.

"Charmed," she mutters sarcastically, and I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes at her. I'm not happy about this either, sweetheart.

"Are you about ready to go? I have things to do Ms. Freedman," I snap at her.

She looks hurt and for a second I feel bad. She's a child, I remind myself. And she's just lost her father. Although why she would be sad to leave this place I can't imagine. The scent alone makes my skin crawl.

I stare at the Hispanic boy to her left and I fight the urge to smile. The kid is way out of his league and probably out of his mind if he thinks she'll ever come back for him.

"I'm ready when you are," she chirps sarcastically, and my blood literally boils. I don't know how long I can tolerate this.

"Your bags have been loaded into my car. I'll be waiting downstairs. Say your goodbyes in a timely fashion," I snap, heading towards the door. I almost all the way out when I hear her sobs again. Fuck.

Emily Freedman P.O.V.

He has his own plane. This guy has been in my shitty little apartment, and he owns an airplane. So that's how the other half live. For some reason, this makes me angry. I mean while I was working my ass off to pay for rent and groceries, he was paying for yachts and vacation homes. Why did he get so lucky? Why did he get to be adopted and why did I have to stay with The Asshole?

Christian is probably the most intimidating person I've ever met. His face is intense and serious. And although I wouldn't ever admit it, we kind of look alike. Growing up, my brother was always this abstract idea painted in my head by my father. I only heard about him a few times, and it was hard to believe that someone else with Neil Freedman's DNA was wandering the streets. But I guess he wasn't wandering. Not like I was.

I've never even been on an airplane before, so I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little bit anxious.

"We should land in an hour," Christian states, pulling me out of my thoughts. We haven't spoken since the plane took off.

"Cool," I say, and then want to hit myself. Cool? Really?

After another five minutes, the silence is almost too much to handle.

"So how long have you had the plane?" I ask, looking for anything to take my mind off the situation.

He smirks at his paperwork before answering. "About three years. I have a helicopter as well. I enjoy flying."

"That's crazy," I say because…well it is crazy.

"Do you enjoy flying?" he asks, still looking at his paperwork.

"This is actually my first time on a plane," I tell him. His forehead crinkles and he looks up at me.

"Oh," is all he says.

"Rhonda said you have a wife. Have long have you been married?" I ask, because I don't know what else to say.

"We actually got back from our honeymoon three days ago. So we've been married for a little over three weeks," he says as he smiles to himself.

Well now I just feel intrusive.

"Congratulations," I say. But I really want to apologize for this. I want to tell him that it's okay and I don't need to stay with him and he can just let me go back home and he'll never have to hear from me again. But I don't say any of that.

I look at Christian and I realize he's still smiling. And for a second I feel hopeful. Maybe I can have that. Maybe I can finally have a family. But then I remember that it's just for a few days until I end up in a foster home, so there's no point in getting my hopes up. Things like this don't work out for me.

Sorry it's really short. I've been so busy this weekend and I wanted to get something up.