seven. what a dream

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CHAPTER SEVEN: WHAT A DREAM

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CHAPTER SEVEN: WHAT A DREAM

Emma walks into the Chatéau, taking an extensive, anxious breath as she braces herself for the lectures she'll probably get. She puts her hands in the pockets of Rafe's jacket as she enters the living room. There was an eerie, peculiar silence in the house. She looks around, starting to feel paranoid.

"John B?" She calls out as she walks around the house. No signs of life. Not even the rooster outside can be heard. She doesn't see anyone.

What she does see is a huddle of extremely messy furniture. Normally, she wouldn't be surprised because her brother was always the messy kind and she was always the one to clean his disarray.

However, this time, she feels more paranoid. Something is amiss. Some furniture is missing. Maybe it's the square groupers. She missed out on a lot. All because she spent time with the enemy, Rafe Cameron.

She sighs as she walks out to look for the Twinkie. It isn't there either.

When she walks back in, she notices that her father's office door is open. Her eyebrows furrow as she steps inside.

It's just a palpable mess, too. She wonders what happened. Where her brother is. Where her friends are.

She feels so lost.

Emma soon comes to the realization that her brother went somewhere without her. Actually, probably the entirety of the Pogues because Pope, Kiara and JJ are supposed to be sleeping over tonight.

She frowns.

Jerks.

She can't even call John B because there's no signal or electricity to charge her phone.

This gives her time, though, to get cleaned up. Yes, the Kook cleaned her wounds, but she needed to shower. Desperately.

After Emma gets out of the shower and dries up, she looks at her body in the mirror. Her arms are still sore and they still have clear bruises. Her face isn't any better. The cut on the side of her forehead is still there. Her lip and jaw bruise are also perceptible. She remembers that Rafe gave her two extra bandages and she grabs one from her bag.

She carefully places the bandage over her wound, flinching slightly as the gash starts to burn again.

She silently prays that when her friends return, they won't say anything about it. Maybe they won't notice. Maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe if they failed to notice that she wasn't in the house while they went on their own adventure, they'll fail to notice the fact that two square groupers beat her up.

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