[ they're telling the truth, Emma knows it. she knows because people lie to her all the time, since she's a kid and she shouldn't technically know the difference. bad news comes pretty frequently when you're living in the foster system, sometimes it's that a family decided they weren't ready for another kid, or they've decided not to meet her after all. sometimes it's that the home she's in doesn't have enough room, or someone's reported a concern to her social worker. she knows what it's like to have to sit in the office at her school and admit that she doesn't have a bed of her own or enough food in the refrigerator. those are the places she gets taken away from, even if she's started making friends.
she doesn't have any friends here, and nothing keeping her in this place. when the woman says they're her parents she knows, no matter how impossible it seems, that she means it. the man is blonde like her and the woman has a chin that's kinda like hers, and if she squints (and she does for a moment there), she can kinda see herself in both of them.
she knows the look, too. that look they're both giving her, like she's someone who matters to them. she's seen plenty of parents give that look to the children they've adopted, or the kids they're picking up at school, she just never thought she'd see someone look at her that way. no one ever has before.
now that they're here, now that they've found her (she always hoped they would), she doesn't know what to say. the woman reaches out to her, and Emma has to remind herself that this is her mother who wants to come closer, but she's frozen at first. she blinks, stunned and curious and fighting back against emotion that rises up at the way they're staring at her. she wants to cry, or hug them, or ask them why it took so long for them to find her, but more important than that, she wants to make sure she's not asleep, so she pinches herself.
it hurts, but they're still here. in her dreams they don't come tripping out of her closet, anyway.]
I thought -
[ she thought what? that they weren't coming back? yeah, sometimes she did. but sometimes she wanted to believe they would, even though getting older was supposed to mean she knew better.]
no subject
she doesn't have any friends here, and nothing keeping her in this place. when the woman says they're her parents she knows, no matter how impossible it seems, that she means it. the man is blonde like her and the woman has a chin that's kinda like hers, and if she squints (and she does for a moment there), she can kinda see herself in both of them.
she knows the look, too. that look they're both giving her, like she's someone who matters to them. she's seen plenty of parents give that look to the children they've adopted, or the kids they're picking up at school, she just never thought she'd see someone look at her that way. no one ever has before.
now that they're here, now that they've found her (she always hoped they would), she doesn't know what to say. the woman reaches out to her, and Emma has to remind herself that this is her mother who wants to come closer, but she's frozen at first. she blinks, stunned and curious and fighting back against emotion that rises up at the way they're staring at her. she wants to cry, or hug them, or ask them why it took so long for them to find her, but more important than that, she wants to make sure she's not asleep, so she pinches herself.
it hurts, but they're still here. in her dreams they don't come tripping out of her closet, anyway.]
I thought -
[ she thought what? that they weren't coming back? yeah, sometimes she did. but sometimes she wanted to believe they would, even though getting older was supposed to mean she knew better.]
How did you find me?