I could still see Hooks, but now he was pressed against Emma in the kitchen, and I couldn’t tell if it was anger or passion that had his body so tense. He stood close to her, his body inches from hers, and she’d turned her face away so I couldn’t actually see her.

She was backed up against a wall, and I couldn’t tell if she wanted to be there or if she was trying to squirm away. I felt glued to the carpet, and as I watched them, I wanted to call out, but I couldn’t move or speak. I wanted to get up to stop him, to hit him with something, to help, since I hadn’t been a help to anyone that night, certainly not myself. As the pleas fluttered around my lips, I let my head settle just a little, since the plush carpet felt so soft against my cheek. I just needed to rest a little, and then I would get up to help.

I must have made a noise.

Suddenly, my eyes were open again, and they were both turned in my direction. I could only see Emma’s face as she stared at me in horror, and then she pulled away from Hooks and rushed toward me. I’d been on the floor between the couch and the window, and they hadn’t seen me all that time, and I should’ve kept it that way.

I wasn’t hiding.

I wasn’t spying on them.

I would’ve left if I could’ve, but I was just so damned tired.

They were both angry, walking toward me, and then they were pulling me up. Dragging me, their fingers gripped into my arms. I felt something cutting into my left arm, something sharp and bruising, and I cried out. Suddenly, I was upright. It hurt to stay up when everything around me was falling down, but they weren’t listening to me, weren’t understanding that I just needed a moment. I knew this was wrong, knew what I’d done was wrong, knew he would be telling her who I was and what I was doing there. But I couldn’t get any words out, because the alcohol had clogged the back of my throat. And my feet weren’t actually touching the floor…

They were pushing me.