My Name Was Emily (6)

 Emily

It'd been one week since they'd brought me here. I'd spent a good deal of that time in the room. I mainly came out for our family meals, avoiding conversation when they wanted to talk.

I'd tried sneaking out of the house one night, but the doors were equipped with digital locks. From what I'd heard, they had to be opened with digital keys, typically signals from mobile phones, even when you wanted to go outside. The Porters' cell phones had PIN protection, little codes to keep me from using them.

My clock read 12:42 am. I figured everybody was asleep by now.

I stepped from the room and crept toward the front door, knowing that I couldn't get out that way. The living room was basked in a dark blue light. Royston was nice in the evening shade.

Reaching in a closet, I grabbed one of Mr. Porter's thin golf clubs, then walked to the nearest window on my right. Just like the rest, it didn't budge at all when I tried to lift. The only way out was to break it down. 

I took a deep breath, eyeing the pane. Did I have the courage to shatter this thing? I'd never tried smashing through glass in my life. The closest I'd come was while playing with Bea, when a wayward ball went flying on us.

I paused at that. I missed my sis. I missed them all.

Tightening my fists, I steadied my focus on the pane again, knowing that I'd have to be incredibly quick. The noise would surely wake the Porters up. I would need to run the moment I broke out.

Closing my eyes, I swung at the glass. My strike didn't do any damage at all. I heard a little thud, recoiling in place. The pane barely showed any sign of a scratch.

Scowling a tad, I swung again. 

The thick glass held. Hardly a dent.

I swung and swung, but got nowhere. 

My hands grew red and my arms felt weak. Tears started rolling along my face — the face that I couldn't look at in the mirror.

Finally, my knees gave out and I dropped to the floor. I spent about a minute just sobbing there.

Then I heard the steps, gentle and soft. I lifted my chin in a state of shock.

Mrs. Porter stood just above my frame, taking a breath as she stared at me. Then she crouched, removing the club, tucking it away right behind her back. "The windows are secured and shatter-proof," she uttered while eyeing me placidly.

I watched her a moment. She'd planned for this.

"I need the defiance to stop," she said. "You're fiddling with locks. You're banging on panes. You're trying not to look at yourself in the mirror." She shook her head. "This is your life. This is your home. It's time to decide how you want to live. You can be a child, and act hateful...or you can begin to embrace our love."

I had to take note of the word she'd used. "This isn't about any 'love' for me, this is about your love for her."

She nodded a bit. "I do love Lizzie, and so do you. That's why it's important that you bring her back. There's nobody else in the world who can."

I shuddered a little. Much as I didn't like acknowledging it, I knew she'd been making a lot of sense. I had envied Lizzie for a number of things: the great positivity she brought to this world, which was what had drawn me to her from the start; her passion for fun and adventurous stuff, including the hobbies that I'd picked up. 

Most notably, above all else, I'd envied Lizzie for her family. I'd never sought to trade my own for hers, but I wished that my clan could be more like them. More close-knit. Addiction-free.

"I want you to begin practicing her voice," Mrs. Porter said, leaving me stunned.

"That's too hard..."

"No it's not. You already sound a good deal like her."

"I mean that it's too hard emotionally." Summoning her voice would be a lot to endure. Maybe I could do it every now and then, but having to hear it every time I spoke... How was my heart going to handle that? "I miss her enough as it is right now."

"The point isn't to miss her..." She touched my chin. "But to be her." She'd said this before. "That's the only way that we'll all move forward."

I stared in silence, considering that. I didn't want to, but I couldn't resist.

"Do you understand?" she asked quietly.

I held my tongue. Could she be right?

"Do you understand?" she asked again.

I took a slow breath. "Yes," I muttered.

"Yes what, sweetie?" Her tone remained calm.

I concentrated, thinking of Lizzie, making my voice sound the same as hers. "Yes, Mom." The impression was surprisingly perfect.

She smiled brightly, then hugged me again. 

About a minute passed as she clung to me. "I love you, Lizzie," she said in a mutter. Moments later, she placed a long kiss on my altered face.

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