Sincerely, Emily ✓

26 • The Beginning Of Everything

JUST BREATHE, EMILY.

Just one pill. One pill wasn't going to hurt me, right? It was actually supposed to make me feel better. Then why was I nervous?

Mrs. Grant picked up the pill from the bottle of antidepressants, and I laid my head back, opening my mouth. She let go of the pill, letting it drop. Then she grabbed a cup of water and poured some of it. With one big amount of strength, I managed to swallow it until the pill was down my throat. Phew. I didn't choke this time.

"Excellent," she approved. "I'm really glad you're doing this, dear. It means a lot to me and my family that you're doing better. Well, it's your family now, technically," she added with a chuckle.

I didn't know what to call myself now. Was I their daughter? No. Adoptive daughter? Nope. Just. . . a close friendly guest, temporarily.

You'll get to that later.

Anyway, September was ending, which meant that it was going to be the month of my birthday soon. My nineteenth birthday. Oh, God. Had it really been almost two years since I was diagnosed?

Ding dong!

"I better get that," Mrs. Grant muttered, heading for the front door. I stayed in the kitchen, staring at the bottle of antidepressants. Hey, friend. Looks like we're going to see each other for a while.

"Emily." Mrs. Grant's voice wavered a bit. "There's someone here that wants to meet you."

The kitchen door opened, and standing beside her was. . . Devon?

"Hey, Emily," he greeted, his tone rather wavering, too. "Can I, uh, talk to you?"

There was no other disagreements after that. Moving the handle, I followed him through the living room, Mrs. Grant holding the door for me. Once Devon was sitting in one of the sofas, and me in my wheelchair, as always, Mrs. Grant mumbled something about "forgetting something" and disappeared upstairs.

Devon cleared his throat. "Uh, sorry for barging in like that. Val mentioned where you lived once, so no, I'm not a stalker. I was actually in your house earlier, but there was no one there." There was kind of a question in his tone somewhere, but he didn't push it further. "So I came here because Oliver's house was next to yours, and well, it was Oliver. If there's anyone in the world that would know where you were, it was him." I looked at him weirdly and he must've seen it in a wrong way. "Oh. Oh! Not in a stalker kind of way. Kind of like, I-care-about-her way."

I smiled a bit at that. "SO, WHY ARE YOU HERE." God, that sounded rude. "NO OFFENSE."

He laughed softly. "None taken." Devon looked up to check, as if he expected Mrs. Grant to eavesdrop from the edge of the stairs, then sat again. He took a deep breath. "I got kicked out."

"YOU WHAT." Really, could the Talk Phone sound more bored?! "HOW. WHY."

"I. . . did something." He looked taken aback at the expression I was wearing; my eyes widened. "It was an accident! The point is, I didn't mean to do it, and it was obviously because of the disorder. They didn't buy it, though. They always think I was wrong and that I was crazy. So, they gave me a chance: move out and stay here in Seattle, or move out to an entirely new city. They said they could pay for a plane ticket." He laughed, but there was no humour in it. "They want to get rid of me so badly, it's caused them to be desperate."

I didn't exactly know why he was telling me this. I mean, first of all, we weren't close. Second, even though we kind of had a "resolution" back in the hospital, I was still rough around him. Not only because of the taunting, but because of his disorder. Who knew? Maybe he would insult me and take it on another level.