Niall's Point of View

I caught Emma right before she hit the ground.

"Mum!" I shouted, starting to panic.

My mum came running into the room, and her eyes flicked over Emma.

"Lay her on your bed," she instructed, walking out of the door. I gently laid her down and sat by her side, running a hand through her hair.

Mum came back in with a glass of water and a container of sharp black pepper. She told me to raise her head, and she put the pepper under Emma's nose.

With a cough, Emma shot up. She sat with her head in her hands. I tried to rub her back, but she flinched, so I let her be.

After a while, Mum sat down next to Emma.

"Are you okay?" She asked, watching her face. Emma responded by taking in a shaky breath. My mum nodded and inquired, "Do you know what's wrong?"

Emma looked up, her eyes welling up with tears. "No," she said, her voice cracking. "I don't know what's wrong with me! I don't know anything! I don't know why people hurt me. I don't know why I'm alive. I don't know what I'm doing here. I don't know."

My mum and I exchanged glances.

"When was the last time you ate?" Mum asked. "Do you want something to eat?"

"I don't know," Emma said tearfully. "I can't remember the last time I ate something."

"Well, lets fix that," my mum said firmly. She took Emma's hand and helped her stand up, then led her to the kitchen.

"What do you want, hon?" She asked.

Emma looked at the food and didn't move. Her mouth opened several times, but she didn't say a word. I stood up and grabbed an orange. I peeled it and handed it to her.

"Here. Eat it," I said, smiling.

She took it, and tore a piece off, placing it in her mouth. She chewed it slowly, and suddenly she was eating the orange as fast as she could. Then it was gone. Emma's face was flushed, and she took a deep breath.

"That was amazing," she whispered, clasping her hands together.

"What else do you want?" I asked her.

Emma thought for a moment and finally shrugged her shoulders.

"Sleep," my mum answered. "She needs sleep."

I nodded, and walked with Emma back to my room. She carefully sat on the bed with an uncertain look on her face.

"You can get in it if you want," I said, laughing quietly.

Emma nodded, and turned away. I walked out, and I was about to close the door when I heard her quiet voice.

"Niall?" She asked softly.

I poked my head around the door and answered, "Yeah?"

She pressed her lips tightly together and then blurted out, "Will you stay?"

I blinked, and slowly nodded. I walked inside and closed the door. Emma got in the bed, and I awkwardly stood in the middle of the room.

"You can be on this side," Emma said, pointing to her left. I smiled, and walked over to the bed. I hesitated before laying on top of the sheets.

"What are you doing?" Emma asked curiously.

"I don't know. I guess I thought I would make you uncomfortable if I was in the bed with you," I answered sheepishly.

"Oh. Thank you," she replied, closing her eyes. I smiled again, and closed mine as well.

---

I woke up to darkness and a restless Emma. Her forehead was warm, and she was shifting uncomfortably.

I gently shook her until she woke up.

"Are you okay?" I asked softly.

"No," she choked out, before bolting out of the bed and into the bathroom. I heard retching noises and the splatter of vomit in the toilet.

I slowly got up from the bed, rolling my neck from side to side.

"Can I come in?" I asked, standing outside the door.

She didn't reply, but I came in anyway. I sat on the floor behind her, and pulled her hair away from her face. She sniffed and leaned back into my chest. I subconsciously began to stroke her face from her forehead to her cheek. Her rapid breathing slowed, and she became more relaxed.

"Now that you've thrown up the only thing you ate," I began, "why don't we look for something less acidic. And lighter."

She nodded, and we both stood up.

I turned on the kitchen light and searched the pantry for a can of broth, or something like that.

I found it and grabbed a small pot, pouring the thin soup into it and placing it on the stove. After a couple of minutes, I took it off and separated a part of it into a bowl. I set the bowl on the counter and took a spoon out of a drawer. I handed it to Emma and pointed at the broth.

She looked uncertain, but she began eating. When she was about halfway through the bowl, she dropped the spoon back into the bowl.

"What are you doing?" I asked, startled.

"I'm full," Emma mumbled.

"What? You can't be full. You need to eat more," I said, panic rising in my chest. She's so skinny, I thought to myself. She'll die if she doesn't get enough food.

"I can't eat anymore. I'm done," Emma said quietly, her eyes full of pain.

I hesitantly nodded and took her bowl, dumping the contents down the sink drain.

We went back to my room, but neither of us were tired anymore. We sat down on the bed without saying a word. I looked at Emma, but she didn't notice. She was crying again. How traumatic has her life been? I questioned. And that's when I decided to say something.

"What happened to you?" I asked.

No, that didn't quite sound like I wanted it to.

Emma shook her head, staring at her tightly clasped hands.

I reached over to her and tried to place a hand on her arm, but she twisted away. I withdrew my hand, a little hurt.

I sighed and turned to her again.

"Please, Emma. I need to know what you've been through. I want to help you."

Emma quickly wiped her face and shot me a glance.

"I don't know where to begin," she said with a trembling voice.

"Maybe the day we met?" I answered. "Start from when you woke up that day."

Emma took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"No. I can't do it," she whispered, burying her head into her arms.

I moved over to her and put my arm around her shoulders, drawing her into my side.

"Yes, you can. You can do it. I promise I'll listen, and I'll try not to interrupt. I know you can do it," I said, praying that she would soften and tell me how she became so afraid and abused.

Emma lifted her head and set it on my shoulder. She took one more shuddery breath and began.

Emma talked about her servanthood in her own household; she talked about how Felicity and her stepsisters treated her. The burns she got from learning to cook. The bruises she got for "incompetence" and the dark circles she got under her eyes from working late at night and college. She told me about her uncertain eating habits. She talked about how Mary helped her, and how she missed Mary. She talked about the party and how she met Luke and what she thought about everything, and she talked about the times I would talk to her after work.

Then she told me about meeting her parents. She talked about the conversation, and how she got thrown out. She talked about the way they threw her into the street and kicked her. She talked about the pain she was feeling, and she talked about how she was so hungry, she wasn't hungry anymore. She talked about falling asleep on the lawn, and waking up to be saved by my mum.

By the end of her story, my face was wet from tears, and my nose was running. I wiped my face with the inside collar of my shirt, and sat with Emma for a while.

We sat there for almost six hours. Somewhere in the middle, Emma had fallen asleep, so I gently removed her head from my shoulder and laid her down. I was about to get on the floor when I heard her pleading whimper, and I turned to see her eyes fluttering, and her arms trying to grasp something, anything to hold onto.

I quickly lay down next to her, and she turned to me, snuggling into my chest. Her thin arms wrapped around one of my own, and she moved her head to rest on my shoulder again. I breathed softly and slowly, trying not to wake her.

She slept peacefully that night.

Notes

Three weeks. I've been gone from this website for three weeks. That is absolutely way too long.

But here is your chapter!!!! Now... I have good news and bad news.

good news: I made the best choir at my school! It's basically a Glee type group, only 20 people, and I'm a part of it. You guys, I actually feel happy. I feel happy. It made me happy.

And even better, people actually know who I am. I'm not just some random kid who no one really knows. people know me, and it's just amazing.

Now, bad news: I'll have less time to write. I will try to write as often as possible, but I will be pressed for time and sleep and food and such. So, if three weeks becomes a normal time period, please don't leave me. Pleaseeeeee.

Anyway, there's your new chapter, and just... Idk. Be happy, my Popsicle sticks! (Does that work for y'all? Idk, I just really like Popsicles and I like you guys, so maybe? Let me know if you like it or if you have a better idea...)

I love you guys so much, and I just want you to know that. Okay. Love you!

-PickNandos