Salted Caramel Coffee (COMPLETED!)

Chapter Fifteen} Błå€k

Hey guys so this chapter is going to be in Black's perspective! Most chapters will not be like this I swear😆

Also lil trigger warning. Idk what for but like... blood? Disclaimer: I am NOT an expert on bipolar disorder and I'm really sorry if any of this offends you. It's not meant that way at all.

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     The door swings open violently, and Emma comes parading in, her hands balled tightly into fists.

     "Hey, you're home early," I say, setting my coffee down on the table in front of me and adjusting my glasses. "You still got a half hour. Something happen?"

     Breathing hard, Emma picks up one of my coffee mugs, still full of coffee, and chucks it across the room with a blood curdling scream. I don't move, I don't even flinch. I just stand there, my eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

      "Alright now, what was that for?" I ask, standing up. Emma glares at me for a second, her chest heaving up and down. Her face is red as a tomato, and it's obvious she was running.

      "You lied to me!" She screams. "You're a liar, a bitch, and I hate you!" She walks straight up to me, getting her face so close that I can feel her breath on my face. "What gave you the right?"

     I swallow hard, trying not to let any trace of hurt show on my face. "What the hell are you talking about?" I ask, my voice dropping.

     "You could have killed her." Emma spits, her eyes livid. "She was your niece, and you could have killed her."

     I sigh, grabbing Emma's shoulders and looking her dead in the eye. She wriggles away from my grip, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

      "I did not lay a finger on Grace."

      "Blaze."

      "Fine. Blaze." I decide not to fight over her name. I don't need myself anymore on her bad side than I already am. "Listen. What I told you in the car, I meant it. She wouldn't leave her damn room for months, either depressed because of her parents' death, or something else. It was like something out of my nightmares, Emma, I'm telling you."

She doesn't seem convinced, but I go on anyway.

"She really was bipolar, Em, you can ask her if you want. She refused to take her meds or come down to eat, and I had to slide food under her door. Not that she ever ate it anyway." I recall, staring blankly at the wall. "One day she came downstairs- said she was going to work. You have no idea how ecstatic I was. I made her a big fancy breakfast and didn't stop smiling for a solid hour." Tears fill my eyes at the memory, blurry splotches dancing around in my vision.

"You're lying." Emma whispers under her breath. "I can tell, you-"

"She put on her clothes, brushed her hair, and even grabbed her bag." I go on. I blink hard, and all the tears welling up spill over my cheeks. "Didn't so much as turn the doorknob before she dropped everything and started crying. I tried to comfort her, but she just began to scream whenever I tried to get near her."

Emma still glares at me with her nose in the air. I try to brush her bangs out of her eyes, but she just spits at me and knocks my hand away.