The Flatmates From Hell: Pt 4 Emma escaped.

So we last finished knowing that Emma wasn’t okay. The truth was she seemed to be falling apart. Jamie and I sat down and talked seriously about the welfare of her. Who has last seen her eat or even buy food. We saw her smoking but nothing else. So we took it on ourselves to take care of her between us because A & B just did not realize what they were doing. When I was at work Jamie would cook and make her sit down with him and have dinner. I would make cups of tea and time to just sit with her. There were good days when she would make her own breakfast because I was in the kitchen and then there were bad days of binge drinking and drugs.

Though one day came around when she turned up at home after 3 nights out, with someone I had never met before. Standing in her door frame I watched her start to pick up her clothes. She said she was going away for a bit. I asked for how long and she replied with “when they decide its safe to let me out”. She told me she had been seeing a therapist and that part of her treatment was to go and stay in the ‘unit’ for a few days. She was honest and she looked hopeful. Her friend was taking her there and as she picked up her last pair of tights and colorful jumper she turned on her heels and thanked me.

It was about two days later when I was at home studying. B was in his room playing video games because his hand hurt and he couldn’t go to work. (5 weeks without going to work here people). I remember every single detail. Like a flash bulb memory. The Neighborhood was playing female robbery. The wind was blowing gently through our french doors and I was sitting on the bed thinking about what I will make for lunch when there was a knock at the door. I ignored it. Ponsonby gets many door knocker. They knocked again. I stuck my head out into the hall. I wasn’t wearing pants. I put pants on for important things. I saw an outline in the glass. Dark, tall and then this person knocked on the door but with much more urgency this time. This. Was. No. Door. To. Door. Salesman.

Slipping on my grey fat pants I pulled my cardigan around me and opened the door. The radio struck me first, followed by the taser. My eyes flicked over his body and I didn’t even hear his name though he introduced himself. Standing before me was a police officer. He wanted to come in. I said yes and asked how could I help. I was thinking about all the different reasons he could be here. You have no idea how fast your mind can flick through ideas till its happening.

He was looking for Emma. Why? Oh she had just escaped the unit and they were thinking she was going to turn up at home. I offered him a cup of tea and asked if I could ask him about the situation. I explained that half of her ‘home’ didn’t know what was going on. Or where she had gone. He denied my cup of tea for a glass of water. He said he didn’t know that much but asked me if he could search the house. I said yes. So through the house he went. Though not into B’s room because I warned the officer that she wouldn’t be there due to the smell and the cohabitant. He smiled and simply explained that Emma is really unwell mentally and needs to go back to the unit. He said it was extremely important that if she does turn up I was to call him. His name was Stewart and he looked into my soul to see if I was lying about anything. I was not lying, though I was sweating and not thinking about lunch.

I don’t remember when she slipped through the door. I think she might of climbed through her window though she suddenly appeared in the kitchen. She knew the police would be here soon and she asked if I had seen any. I said no.

Lying. I do not like it. She said she was calling a cab and going back to the unit. She had only left because she wanted a break. Honestly, I was freaking out. She grabbed a glass of juice, a smoke and her tooth brush. Jumped into a cab and then I ran back to my room called Stewart and told him what had just happened. He said he would call me back only if she didn’t turn back up. He never called. She came home a week later. With prescriptions and appointments every 3 days. A and B still had no idea. As far as they were concerned she was out enjoying life, maybe on a surf trip or with friends. Emma was very good at hiding things. That I learnt.

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A pretty sassy 25-year-old​ living in New Zealand.

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