I Amsterdam (Completed)

Chapter 3.6 - Emma

The first thing I noticed when I exited the store was the sun. The day was ending, and the sky was turning pink, striped with colors as if the evening breeze was a paintbrush gradually leaving pigments of color on a huge canvas. However, the city was still alive with tourists and workers.

Beauty.

My stomach rumbled, reminding me that I haven't eaten anything today except for some fries and a sausage roll. I decided I'll just buy a salad from the grocery store near where I'm staying.

But I didn't take me long to realize that I didn't remember the way back to where I'm staying.

Instinctively, my eyes darted around in hopes of spotting some clue to return to the Schneiders' house, but it achieved me nothing. Getting nervous, I imprudently walked down a few blocks, but I became even more confused about where I was. I even forgot the way back to the bag store.

I'm lost.

Stupid, I cursed myself. Of course you're lost. You traveled a long way, recalling events long gone while staring at your feet. Why did you even let them get to you? They never get to you.

I approached an intersection, almost deserted except for some walkers and occasional bikers. A group of boys smoked in a corner.

"Excuse me?" I called to any one who could hear me, but my voice came out croaked.

I walked up to a man busy on his phone, dangerously crossing the street. I stopped him, tapping his shoulder gently as I said, "Do you have a map?"

He didn't notice me.

"Excuse me?" I called to a passing biker, who also didn't stop for me.

In frustration, I yelled again, "Excuse me?!" My voice seemed to echo off the biker's back. There was barely anyone in the intersection who heard except for the group of boys.

They cocked their heads up and looked at me. They then looked at each other, smirking, and walked over to me. There were three of them. I cursed myself under my breath for quickly losing my anger. These boys look like the very definition of trouble.

"Want help?" one asked. A cigarette rested on the corner of his mouth, and his words bounced it up and down lightly. He had light blonde hair, and a short stubble of a beard. He couldn't be any older than 23. Smoke blew from his mouth to me as he spoke.

I coughed, gently waving my hand in front of me to clear the smoke, trying to make obvious the fact that I disliked cigarettes. I half knew that it would annoy him, but didn't care. This situation isn't something I haven't experienced before. But still be on your toes, I reminded myself. "I do."

The boy stood closer to me. He was almost half a foot taller than me, and had piercing ice blue eyes. He chuckled. "I see," he said, his voice rough. "Want a cigarette?" He blew more smoke to me, this time deliberately. Once I cleared it from my face, the first thing I saw was his smile, the same height as my eyes. His teeth were white and neat, his lips curved sinisterly. He wouldn't stop smiling.

I didn't dare imagine what he has in mind.

But I refused to back away. I didn't even blink.

Naturally, my hands start clenching into fists. They always do when I feel threatened, because I know I can depend on them if things get messy. I kept my thumb out and wrapped it around my pointer finger, for keeping it inside my fist would only damage it if I were to throw a punch. I learned that the hard way.

So if this turns into a fight, I can win. I just have to hope the boys in front of me have the decency to not start anything bloody, otherwise they have it in for them.

"I don't, thanks," I replied, cocking my head up to look the boy straight in the eye, flashing my best smile. "I just need a map." I took a step toward him to close the distance between us.

The boy took the smoke out of his mouth. "You lost, then?"

"Hopefully not for much longer," I said, still smiling.

He chuckled. "Take a smoke first."

"I'm sorry, but I don't smoke."

"Come on, my boy's got an extra. It's tasty."

"Lucas, let's just go," one of his friends said. He looked bored, sitting on a nearby bench and staring at the sky.

"No, this lady needs help," Lucas retorted. "And we should be the gentlemen to provide it."

I forced a laugh. "Then do me a favor and drop the smoke. Sooner or later, you'll die from it."

Now it was Lucas' turn to laugh. "What? How can you die from something that is so good? If I do die, I'll die happy." He sighed, taking another smoke. I can imagine his lungs filling with the poison. "Well, might as well die early feeling good than die old and unhappy."

My mother said those exact same words before she died.

No, don't think about her.

Lucas took my jaw in his hand, lifting my chin up delicately as I held back a flinch. His fingers were as rough as his voice. "You just don't know because you never tried it," he said in a whisper. His eyes searched mine.

I was so distracted by his blue stare that I didn't notice when he suddenly stuffed his smoke into my mouth. Immediately, I tried to spit it out, but his hand on my jaw was firm and solid, holding it in place. His other hand quickly wrapped around my back, pulling me close so that his body was touching mine.

I held my breath. I couldn't control my thoughts and my memories instantly raced back in time to my mother, drunk and casually sprawled out on the floor, with only one arm to hold her upright on the couch behind her. The other was holding a smoke. She wouldn't stop smoking, like Lucas wouldn't stop smiling, going through stacks and stacks of cigarettes until she fainted, and when she finally woke up again she would only continue to do more.

My thoughts then traveled to her bleeding on the floor. "I'm sorry," she told me.

Fighting with my dad.

Grass and trees. Smoke-filled air. Her hand on my cheek. Cigarette in the other.

"I was dead already," her voice echoed in my mind.

I remember her hopeless eyes.

Why?

I shook my head, my arms crawling between Lucas and me, and with all my strength I pushed him back. He fell to the floor half out of shock as I stumbled backwards. I quickly grabbed the smoke from out of my mouth, inhaling fresh air, my hand gently clasped around my throat.

Lucas soon jumped back up onto his feet. I took one step back. Lucas' friends were now staring at us with their full attention, unsure of what to do.

My fists were sweating. Lucas was furious.

Our anger met.

A/N: QOTC

What do you think has happened to Emma in her past regarding her relationship with her parents?

a. Her parents abused her

b. Her parents abandoned her

c. Her father died

d. Her mother died

e. Both her parents died