Chapter 21 CHAPTER 21

Chapter 21 CHAPTER 21
Vivienne’s POV

I pulled out my phone, and my stomach dropped when I saw the name on the screen.

Uncle Martin.

No. Not now. I couldn't deal with him right now.

"Who is it?" Emma asked, noticing my face.

"My uncle." My voice came out flat.

Emma's expression immediately darkened. "Don't answer it."

"I have to. If I don't, he'll keep calling. And it will be worse later."

"Vivi..."

But I was already swiping to accept, my hand trembling slightly as I lifted the phone to my ear.

"Hello?"

"WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?"

I flinched at the volume, pulling the phone back slightly. Emma's eyes widened; she could probably hear him from across the table.

"I was at a friend's house," I said quietly, trying to keep my voice steady.

"A friend's house?" He let out a harsh laugh that turned into a cough. "You think you can just not come home and I won't notice? You think you're special or something?"

I could hear the slur in his words. He was drunk. Of course he was. It was barely four in the afternoon.

"I'm sorry. I should have..."

"Damn right you should have!" Something crashed in the background, probably a bottle. "You live under my roof. You follow my rules. You don't just disappear for a whole night without telling me anything."

"I was going to call, but..."

"But nothing! You get your ass home right now. Do you hear me? Right now."

My hands were shaking. Emma reached across the table and grabbed one of them, squeezing tightly.

"I'll be home soon," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Soon? Soon?" He laughed again, mean and mocking. "What, you too good for your own home now? Got yourself some rich friends who let you sleep in their fancy beds?"

"It's not like that."

"Don't talk back to me, girl!" His voice rose to a shout. "You're lucky I even took you in after your parents died. Lucky I didn't throw you out on the street where you belong."

The words hit like a slap. My eyes burned with tears I refused to let fall.

"I know," I managed. "I'm grateful."

"Grateful?" He snorted. "If you were grateful, you wouldn't be running around town while I'm here working my ass off to keep a roof over your head."

Working. Right. The only work he did was lifting bottles to his mouth.

"And speaking of money," he continued, his tone turning nastier, "how's that college fund of yours doing? Oh wait..." He let out a cruel laugh. "That's right. It's gone. All of it. Poof. Disappeared."

My chest tightened. "You had no right..."

"No right?" His voice turned dangerous. "I had every right to that money. You think some little brat gets to tell me what I can and can't do with my own money?"

"It wasn't your money." The words burst out before I could stop them. "I worked for that. I earned every single dollar."

"And I spent it. Tough luck, princess." I could practically hear him sneering. "Maybe if you weren't so stupid, you wouldn't have had such an easy pin code to your account."

"You're a thief," I said, my voice shaking with rage.

"What did you just call me?"

"A thief. You stole from me. You took three years of my life and just..."

"You ungrateful little bitch!" He was yelling now, so loud I had to pull the phone away from my ear. "After everything I've done for you. Letting you stay in my house, feeding you, clothing you..."

"Feeding me?" A bitter laugh escaped. "You barely buy groceries. I've been feeding myself since I moved in."

"Then maybe you should move out!" he roared. "See how far you get on your own with no money and no family and no one who gives a shit about you."

The words cut deep because part of me believed them.

"Maybe I will," I said quietly.

"Oh, please. You won't last a week." His tone turned mocking again. "You're pathetic, Vivienne. Just like your mother was. Weak. Useless. No wonder your parents..."

I ended the call.

My hand was shaking so badly I nearly dropped the phone. I set it down on the table, staring at it like it might explode.

"Vivi..." Emma's voice was soft, careful.

I couldn't look at her. Couldn't speak. If I opened my mouth, I was going to scream or cry or both.

"That piece of shit," Emma said, her voice tight with fury. "I'm going to kill him. I'm actually going to kill him."

"Don't." I managed. "He's not worth it."

"Not worth it? Vivi, he just..." She stopped, taking a breath. "What he said about your parents..."

"Don't." My voice cracked. "Please don't."

She reached across the table and grabbed both my hands. "You're not going back there. Not tonight. Not ever, if I have anything to say about it."

"I don't have anywhere else to go."

"Yes, you do. You're staying with us."

I shook my head, pulling my hands back. "I can't impose like that."

"It's not imposing." Emma's voice rose slightly. "Vivi, you heard what he said to you. He's abusive. He's cruel. And he stole from you."

"He's still family." The words felt hollow even as I said them. "It's still my home."

"That is not a home." Emma slammed her hand on the table, making me jump. "A home is supposed to be safe. It's supposed to be where you feel protected and cared for. What you have is a drunk uncle who treats you like garbage and takes advantage of your kindness."

"Emma, please."

"No. You need to hear this." She leaned forward, her eyes intense. "You're too soft, Vivi. Too fragile. And people like your uncle see that and they use it. They walk all over you because they know you won't fight back."

The words stung because they were true.

"I'm not trying to be mean," Emma continued, her voice gentler now. "But you need to grow a spine. You need to stand up for yourself. Because if you don't, people will keep taking and taking until there's nothing left of you."

Tears burned behind my eyes. "What am I supposed to do? He's all I have left. My parents are gone. I don't have any other family. If I leave, I have nowhere..."

"You have me." Emma grabbed my hands again. "You have my family. My parents would let you stay in a heartbeat."

"I can't just move in with you guys. That's not... that's asking too much."

"It's not asking too much if it keeps you safe."

"I'll be fine." I wiped my eyes. "He's not always like this. When he's sober, he's manageable."

Emma let out a frustrated sound. "When he's sober? Vivi, how often is that? Once a week? Once a month?"

I didn't answer.

"Exactly." She sat back, running her hands through her hair. "I can't make you leave. I know that. But I can't sit here and watch you go back to that place knowing what he's like."

"He's all I have," I repeated, my voice breaking. "He's the only family I have left. If I burn that bridge..."

"What bridge?" Emma's voice was sharp. "There is no bridge, Vivi. He's already burned it by treating you like crap and stealing your money. You don't owe him anything."

"But he took me in after my parents died..."

"Because he was legally obligated to. Not because he wanted to. Not because he cares about you." She softened her tone again. "I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm trying to make you see that staying there isn't loyalty. It's just letting yourself be hurt over and over again."

I stared down at my hands, her words echoing in my head.

She was right. I knew she was right.

But the thought of leaving, of being completely alone with nowhere to go, terrified me more than staying.

"I can't," I whispered. "Not yet. I'm not ready."

Emma was quiet for a long moment. I could feel her frustration and her worry.

Then she let out a long breath. "Okay."

I looked up, surprised. "Okay?"

"I can't force you. As much as I want to drag you to my house and lock you in the guest room, I can't make this choice for you." She reached across the table one more time, squeezing my hand. "But I need you to understand something."

"What?"

"Life is going to keep throwing impossible choices at you. Choices that scare you. Choices that feel too big to make." Her eyes were serious. "And you can keep choosing the safe option, the one that feels familiar even if it hurts, or you can choose the scary option that might actually make your life better."

My throat tightened.

"I know you're scared," Emma continued. "I know leaving feels impossible right now. But at some point, Vivi, you're going to have to decide what you're worth. You're going to have to decide if you deserve better than what he's giving you."

A tear slipped down my cheek. "What if I'm not strong enough?"

"You are." She said it with certainty. "You're one of the strongest people I know. You've just forgotten it."

I wiped my face, trying to pull myself together. "I need time. To think. To figure things out."

"Okay. But promise me something."

"What?"

"If it gets worse, if he hurts you or threatens you or does anything that makes you feel unsafe, you call me. Immediately. Day or night. I don't care what time it is. You call me, and I will come get you. Deal?"

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

"And my door is always open," she added. "Always. If you change your mind tomorrow or next week or next month, you have a place to go. You're not alone in this, even if it feels like you are."

The words made my chest ache. "Thank you."

She stood up and pulled me into a tight hug. I buried my face in her shoulder, trying not to fall apart completely.

"I wish you'd let me help you more," she murmured.

"You're already helping," I whispered back. "More than you know."

She pulled back, studying my face. "You sure you want to go back there tonight?"

No. I wasn't sure at all.

But I nodded anyway.

"Okay." She sighed, clearly unhappy but accepting it. "Come on. I'll get you a cab."

We walked outside, and Emma immediately pulled out her phone to call for a ride. Within minutes, a cab pulled up to the curb.

Emma opened the door for me, then pulled out her wallet.

"Emma, no..."

"Don't even start." She handed the driver a couple of bills. "This is for the fare and a tip. Get her home safe."

"Yes, ma'am," the driver said.

I climbed into the back seat, and Emma leaned in through the window.

"Text me when you get there," she said firmly. "And if anything happens, anything at all, you call me."

"I will."

"I mean it, Vivi. Don't try to handle everything alone."

"I won't."

She looked like she wanted to say more but just nodded instead. "I love you. You know that, right?"

My eyes burned again. "I love you too."

She stepped back, and the cab pulled away from the curb.

I watched her through the rear window until she disappeared from view, then turned to face forward.

The driver glanced at me in the mirror. "Rough day?"

"Something like that," I murmured.

He didn't push for more, just drove in silence.

I leaned my head against the window, watching the city pass by, Emma's words echoing in my head.

At some point, you're going to have to decide what you're worth.

Was I worth more than this? More than a drunk uncle who stole from me and made me feel worthless?

I wanted to believe I was.

But as the cab pulled up to my uncle's rundown apartment building, all I felt was the familiar weight of dread settling back over me.

I paid the driver with the last few dollars I had in my pocket and climbed out.

The building looked even more depressing than usual. Peeling paint. Broken windows. The smell of garbage from the alley.

This was home.

And I hated it.

But I didn't know how to leave.

Not yet.

I took a deep breath and walked toward the entrance, Emma's final words still ringing in my ears.

My door is always open.

Maybe someday I'd be brave enough to walk through it.

Just not today.