Emma's Point of View

I cautiously opened the door and slipped inside. I was trying not to scream and jump out of the car. There was something very wrong with this situation, but I managed to close my eyes for a moment and breathe.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

Felicity gave me an odd half smile and replied, "Not home. I hope you're not afraid of planes."

Home? What's home?, I thought to myself.

I opened my mouth but hesitated. "Planes?" I slowly asked.

"Yes," she said.

I waited for for her to elaborate, but apparently there was nothing more to say.

~~~

I've never been on a plane before. I'll probably never want to go on one again.

Seeing as I didn't have a suitcase or any luggage of any sort, security check wasn't that bad. It was the plane that made me want to tear my hair out.

On the actual plane, I sat in between a man and a cello. The man would look over at me, then the cello every few seconds. I assumed that the cello was his.

After an hour and a half of sitting rigidly in between the large instrument and the overprotective cellist, the flight finally arrived. In Ireland.

I made my way out of the airport and onto the browning grass beside the street full of cars and busses. I glanced at the directions Felicity had thrown at me as I was getting out of the car.

I looked for the street sign, but didn't see one. I decided to ask a woman passing by.

"Excuse me..." I asked, tapping her arm to get her attention.

She turned to me, a friendly smile on her face.

"Yes?" She asked.

I fumbled with the paper before pointing to the first instruction.

She grinned and pointed down the street. "Go that way, and street signs will start showing up."

I thanked her, and began walking in the direction she pointed to.

Walking to the destination took a great deal of the day, and by the time I arrived at my destination, it was very dark outside.

I looked up. There were stars out. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before opening the door of a nice, two story house.

I knocked on the door, I heard footsteps come running. A woman with dark brown hair and hazel eyes opened the door.

"Emma?" She questioned.

Quirking an eyebrow, I slowly nodded. The woman beckoned, and then disappeared.

I walked inside and jogged around the corner to follow her. She was waiting by a closed door. I slowed to a stop a few steps away from her. The woman smiled at me, and I glanced at the floor. Shiny wood.

The woman opened the door to reveal a man. This man also had dark brown hair, as well as hazel eyes. Weird. The woman walked into the room, and I followed her, against my better judgement.

The man and woman sat down, and the man gestured to a seat. I sat down in it, against my better judgement.

Then the man cleared his throat, and began to speak.

"I guess you are wondering why you are here," he said, with a lilting Irish accent.

I nodded, and he continued.

"My name is Arnel Trews. This is Stephanie Daniel. We're your parents," he said, slowly rubbing his hands together. This man gave me a strange feeling that I couldn't quite place every time he looked at me.

The man- Arnel -stopped to let this piece of impossible information sink in.

I sat there, trying to find words.

I found them.

"Oh," I replied, still trying to understand why I was here. "That's nice."

The woman- Stephanie - looked taken aback. "Yes," she replied.

All three of us sat in an awkward silence for a moment before I spoke up. "You aren't my parents."

Arnel smiled dryly. "Yes, we are. What makes you think we aren't?"

I replied with all of the contempt and anger I had kept in for so long. "I don't have the same last name as you. Felicity said you had probably died. And you might as well been dead, because I never heard from you! No!" I repeated. "You are not my parents. You are absolutely not my parents! If you were my parents, you would not have left me in England with a 'step-mother' and 'step-sisters'. Please tell me there is a reason! Please tell me that there is a reason for my abandonment, and your obvious disinterest in my bringing up!"

Arnel sighed and replied, "Your last name is Drews. It's a combination of Daniel and Trews. And you don't look like us because I wear colored contacts, and your mother dyes her hair."

Stephanie looked like she was about to cry. "There was a reason," she whispered tremulously, answering my most important question.

Arnel looked sharply in her direction. He shook his head, but I wouldn't have it.

"And what, pray tell, is that reason?" I asked accusingly.

Stephanie ignored Arnel's warning signs and swallowed before slowly telling me.

"Your father is quite famous. And not to brag, but so am I. Eighteen years ago, we met at a party, and we began talking to each other. We were very attracted to one another, but I was married. I didn't have children, but I was still married. My husband was out of town a lot, and I got lonely. So, Arnel and I... We... We had an affair, and you came out of it. My husband was very angry with me, and he threatened to have you taken away, to kill you, but I didn't want that to happen, so I ran away. I ran to Arnel, and we agreed that we needed to send you away, so if my husband found us, you wouldn't get hurt. So far, we've been lucky, but Arnel and I figured it was time to talk to you."

Stephanie ended her awful explanation, and I slowly stood up, shaking my head. "So I was thrown away to some hag because you were scared?" I scoffed.

"It wasn't just some hag," Arnel sputtered, turning red. "I sent you to my sister, because she said she would treat you like her own child!"

"Well, she lied!" I exploded. "She forced me to be a servant, a slave!"

Stephanie shook her head, covering her mouth.

"I'm not sure I believe you," Arnel said. "She said she had trouble with you."

"Trouble?" Stephanie asked.

"Rudeness, incompetency, deceit, need I go on?"

"No," I said. "You don't have to go on, because I am leaving. I refuse to stay here, listening to two people who have no purpose in my life. Two people who have come up with a ridiculously weak story to cover the fact that they didn't want a baby. Two people who I refuse to call my parents."

Arnel replied, his face a brighter red than a fire truck, "Well. Lucky for you, you won't have to deal with us. You were going to go to college here in Ireland, and we were going to pay, but if we aren't your parents, then I don't see why we have to. Have fun living alone and homeless in an unfamiliar country. You won't hear from us ever again."

"Wait! What am I supposed to do? You can't just throw me away again!" I frantically screamed, kicking as two massive security guards came out of nowhere and picked me up out of the chair by my arms.

Arnel smiled a cold smile. "I think I can."

Screaming and crying, the guards dragged me out of the house and dumped me in the middle of the road. One of them kicked me in the ribs before laughing and walking back inside, slamming the door.
I laid in the middle of the road for a moment more before painfully getting up and moving to the low curb and sitting down. Sniffling, I dried my face and tried to ration my breathing, so my ribs would stop screaming in pain every time I took a breath.

I shakily stood up and began walking down the street.

For hours, I wandered the streets of neighborhoods, trying to figure out what to do.

Cold, tired, hungry, emotionally drained, frustrated, and hopeless, I stumbled around in the dark for a while, before giving up, and sitting against a flickering street light. Tears were in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I didn't remember dozing off, but it happened.

~~~

I woke up against the pathetic, flickering street light. I sat up, and looked around in confusion.

I suddenly remembered where I was. As much as I tried to stop it, tears began rolling, streaming down my face, as I recalled the horrible events of yesterday, and the realization that I was, indeed, alone, stuck in Ireland. My ribs hurt more than they did yesterday, as did my arms. I think my stomach was digesting itself. I hadn't eaten in about three days, so I was used to the hunger pains, but my situation had brought them back.

My mum is a weak waste of human skin. My dad is a cold, heartless prick.

My parents willingly left me.

My parents willingly threw me away.

And now, I'm willingly giving up on them.

I was so stressed and upset, that I didn't notice the door of the house behind me opening. I didn't notice the woman walking to me. I didn't notice her until she sat down on the grass beside me.

I looked at her, wiping tears off of my face. The woman gave me a kind smile.

"Why are you crying?" She asked in an Irish accent so thick, it was almost hard to understand her.

"I'm sure you don't want to listen to my problems," I said, wiping my nose on my sleeve.

The woman smiled again, and answered. "Why not? I've got nothing else to do, but wait for my son to get home. And even then, I'm not sure he'll come. He's met a lovely girl back in England. Besides, you look hungry. And cold. Why don't you come in?"

I slowly nodded. I stood up with the woman, and asked her, "What's your name?"

She smiled and said, "Just call me Maura."

Notes

Alright guys!!! This is my last edited chapter, so now I'm back to actually writing! I do have an important question for everyone, however.

This may seem like a stupid question, but it's been bothering me for a while.

I want to change my chapter titles. But, I'm not sure what exactly to change them to. I have a list of different ways to title chapters, and I was hoping that you could comment with the way that you think is best. So... Here I go.

-Normal, "Chapter 1, Chapter 2, etc"
-An excerpt from the text of that chapter
-A one word or so phrase that describes the chapter
-See choice above, plus an excerpt from the chapter as the description per chapter.

Thanks for your help, and for everyone still reading my crazy thoughts, thank you so much! I like you more than everyone else. (Jk, jk, I love everyone here!)

Thank you again!
-PickNandos