Lonely Hearts

Chapter fourteen: Emma

I couldn't shake Louis's words from my head. He would have had us as a family. But he didn't.

The Home didn't believe Lincoln was stable enough for a family of his own. But wasn't that the beauty of family? Couldn't you be whoever and whatever you wanted without being judged? Shouldn't that be the case with all families?

What would our family have been like? If we had stayed together like I wanted?

Flashbacks from the old days started to replay in my mind.

Lincoln screaming, Max crying, I'm angry. Always angry.

Maybe we were better off this way. Without him. Without her. We may have shared a house, but we weren't a family. Families love each other. Families don't yell and scream and spit poison at one another.

I remembered Lincoln's episodes. He got them from time to time. Anger explosions that left little messes around the house until Mummy wrapped him in a hug that made it all better. 

Did he remember that? Is that why he didn't want to talk to us? Did it just hurt too much to remember the past?

But...there was something comforting about the past. About knowing the journey you took to make you the person you are today.

I wondered if Lincoln ever thought that.

I wondered if he ever stopped and thought about us.

How many times does someone have to let you down before you stop believing in them, Emma? He doesn't think of you. If he did, he would be here by now. He would answer the phone.

"He's not there." I said out loud, trying to make myself believe it. "He wasn't there before, he isn't here now and he won't be there in the future. He's gone."

Maybe if I said it enough times I would believe it.

Maybe if I said it enough times it would stop hurting.

Maybe it would become normal.

"He's not there."

"Who isn't?"

I spun around to see Louis standing in the doorway, looking perplexed.

Lies sprung to my lips, like they always did, like they always would. But I swallowed them and savoured the unfamiliar taste of the truth.

"Lincoln." I replied.

Louis sighed and entered the room, sitting on the bed next to me.

"He's waiting for you."

"How do you know?"

"He told me."

"That was two years ago. Maybe he's moved on by now. Maybe he's forgotten about us."

"Maybe he hasn't. Maybe he thinks of you every day. Maybe he never gave up on you."

"So why doesn't he answer the phone?"

He was quiet.

"Exactly." I said, standing. "If he thought of us every day, wouldn't he jump at the chance to call or visit?"

I walked to the window, looking out at a world that had forgotten about us so many times.

"The Home won't let him." Louis said, quietly.

I turned around.

"Why not?"

"Speaking to you is...a privilege, if you like." He explained, reluctantly. "An incentive for good behaviour."