Chapter 17 Escape
Emma: POV
"Military school? Are they fucking kidding me?" I paced around my bedroom, still fuming from the conversation I'd overheard. Perfect Olivia and her perfect suggestions about "resetting my values." As if I was some broken machine that needed reprogramming.
The walls of this pristine house suddenly felt like they were closing in on me. Three years I'd been here, and it still didn't feel like home. How could it? I was just the Parker family's biological mistake—the daughter they'd lost and found, only to realize they preferred the replacement model they'd raised all along.
I grabbed my backpack and started shoving clothes inside. No way in hell was I going to let them ship me off to some military academy where they'd try to turn me into another Olivia. Another Parker puppet dancing on their strings.
I threw in my toiletries, some cash I'd been stashing from my allowance, and my laptop. Looking around the room, I realized nothing else here really mattered to me.
I waited until I heard everyone retreat to their bedrooms before slipping downstairs. I scribbled a note and left it on the counter: [Don't bother looking for me. I'm not going to military school.]
The night air hit my face as I stepped outside, and I finally felt like I could breathe again. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn't called in months.
"Hello?" Linda's voice sounded surprised.
"Hey... it's me," I said, suddenly nervous.
"Emma? Baby girl, is everything okay?"
"I need a place to stay. Just for a little while."
There was a pause. "Of course you can come stay with us. You know you're always welcome here."
I walked six blocks before calling the Uber. During the ride, I stared out the window at the passing city lights. Three years ago, when the Parkers found out I was their biological daughter, they'd swooped in like heroes to "rescue" me from my "terrible" home life with the Sullivans. Nobody bothered to ask what I wanted.
The Uber pulled up to a familiar one-story house with peeling paint and a chain-link fence. My old home.
Before I could even knock, the front door swung open. Linda—the woman who raised me for twenty-two years—stood there in a faded housecoat.
"Emma!" She pulled me into a hug that smelled like cigarettes and cheap perfume. "Come in, come in!"
"Tom!" she called over her shoulder. "Emma's here!"
Tom appeared in the hallway, beer in hand. "Well, look what the cat dragged in! The little princess returned to the peasants!"
I forced a smile. Even after all this time, even knowing they weren't my biological parents, they still felt more familiar than the Parkers ever did.
The inside of the house hadn't changed—cramped living room with the same worn-out couch, coffee table cluttered with magazines and empty beer cans, TV blaring some reality show.
"Let me get your room ready," Linda said. "Ryan's been using it for storage, but I can clear it out in no time."
I nodded, noticing how she exchanged glances with Tom. They were already calculating something.
"How are things with those rich folks?" Tom asked, settling into his recliner. "Not so perfect after all, huh?"
"They want to send me to military school," I said flatly.
Linda gasped dramatically. "Those monsters!"
I bit my tongue. They were playing the victim card again. The truth was more complicated—the Parkers had legal rights as my biological parents, but the Sullivans hadn't exactly put up much of a fight once they realized there might be money involved.
"Where is Ryan?" I asked.
"Working night shift at the garage," Tom said. Then, as if he couldn't hold it in any longer: "Say, how are things at that fancy company your other daddy runs? Radiance? Bet they're rolling in cash."
And there it was. The real reason they were so happy to see me.
"I don't work there," I said. "Olivia does."
Linda's smile faltered. "But you're their real daughter. Surely they're setting you up with something nice."
I laughed bitterly. "They offered. I refused."
Tom cleared his throat. "Well, you know, sweetheart, things have been tight around here. Your mom's medication went up again, and the roof needs fixing..."
I reached for my backpack and pulled out my wallet. Inside was nearly all the cash I had—money I'd been skimming from my allowance for months.
"How much do you need?" I asked, my voice flat.
Linda's eyes lit up even as she protested. "Oh, we don't want to impose..."
But she didn't stop me as I counted out two thousand dollars. My hands were shaking slightly as I handed it over, and I hated myself for hoping—just for a second—that they'd refuse it. That they'd say they just wanted me, not my money.
Tom grabbed it before Linda could, quickly counting it with practiced fingers. "This is a start. Good girl."
Something inside me cracked. A start. Not "thank you." Not "you didn't have to." Just a start.
Three years with the Parkers had taught me what real parenting looked like, even if I'd fought against it every step of the way. And now I couldn't unsee this for what it was.
I excused myself and went to "my" old room. It was being used for storage now—boxes piled on the bed, the closet filled with Tom's fishing gear. So much for getting it ready.
I cleared enough space to sit on the mattress and stared at the cracked ceiling. The familiar smell of mildew and the distant sound of the neighbor's dog barking brought back a flood of memories.
At 11 PM, my phone rang. Catherine Parker's name flashed on the screen. I stared at it for three rings before answering.
"Emma? Where are you? We've been worried sick!"
"I'm fine," I said coldly.
"Fine? You left a note saying not to look for you and you think that's fine? Emma, please, just come home and we can talk about this—"
"Talk about what? How you're shipping me off to military school? How I'm the problem that needs fixing?"
"That's not—Emma, that was just a suggestion. We haven't decided anything. Your father and I want what's best for you—"
"No," I cut her off, my voice breaking. "You want me to be like Olivia. You want me to fit into your perfect family like I was never gone. But I was gone, Catherine. For twenty-two years I was gone, and you can't just erase that!"
There was a long silence. When Catherine spoke again, her voice was thick with emotion. "You're right. We can't erase it. But Emma, running away isn't the answer—"
"I'm not running away," I said, even though we both knew it was a lie. "I just need space. I need to figure out who I am without everyone telling me who I should be."
"Where are you staying? Are you safe?"
I looked around the dingy room. "I'm with the Sullivans."
Another silence. "Emma—"
"I'm not coming back," I said firmly. "And I'm definitely not going to military school."
I hung up before she could respond, before the tears burning behind my eyes could fall.
My phone immediately started ringing again—Catherine calling back. Then a text from David Parker. Then Olivia.
I turned off my phone and lay down on the dusty bed.
That's when the tears finally came. Hot, angry tears that streamed down my face as I curled up on the mattress.
"Why didn't you find me sooner?" I whispered into the darkness. "Why did you let me turn into this?"
The truth was, I didn't belong anywhere. Not with the Parkers and their perfect lives that I could never quite fit into. Not here with the Sullivans, who saw me as a meal ticket.
But I couldn't stay here long. By morning, Tom would be asking for more money. Ryan would come home and resent my presence. Linda would start making calls to the Parkers, trying to leverage my location for cash.
I had to leave. Soon.
I needed to find my own way. Build my own life. Become someone who wasn't defined by being the Parker's lost daughter or the Sullivan's cash cow or Olivia's broken replacement.
I just had no fucking clue how to do that.
Outside, a siren wailed in the distance. The neighbor's dog kept barking. Somewhere in the house, Tom's TV was still blaring.
I closed my eyes and tried to remember what it felt like to belong somewhere.