Chapter 3

The next morning, Sarah and Emily were at a hotel, a temporary sanctuary from the defiled apartment. There was a knock on the door. Sarah looked through the peephole and saw Ashley, standing alone, her face blotchy and swollen from crying.

Sarah opened the door just a crack. "What do you want?"

"Please, Mrs. Miller," Ashley begged, her voice thick with tears. "Can I just talk to Emily? For one minute?"

Before Sarah could refuse, Emily came up behind her. "Let her in, Mom."

Reluctantly, Sarah opened the door. Ashley stumbled in and immediately fell to her knees in front of Emily.

"Emily, I am so, so sorry," she wailed, grabbing Emily's hands. "I never wanted this to happen. My mom, she's crazy. And my brother is an idiot. Please, you have to forgive me. We'll be homeless! My mom said we have to go to a shelter. Please don't press charges against Dylan. It'll ruin his life!"

Emily looked deeply uncomfortable. She was a kind soul, and the sight of her supposed best friend kneeling and begging was painful for her. "Ashley, get up. It's okay."

"No, it's not okay!" Sarah's voice was like a whip crack. "Get off the floor. You look ridiculous."

Ashley scrambled to her feet, looking at Sarah with a mixture of fear and resentment.

"You're not sorry this happened," Sarah said, her eyes boring into Ashley. "You're sorry you got caught. There's a difference."

"That's not true!" Ashley cried. "I love Emily! She's my best friend!"

"No, she's not," Sarah said, stepping between the two girls. "A friend, a real friend, would never have let her family invade Emily's space. A real friend would have stood up for Emily when her brother was being a creep. A real friend would have told her own mother to shut her mouth when she was insulting the one person who was giving you a place to stay. You're not a friend, Ashley. You're a user. You saw my daughter's kindness and you saw it as a weakness to be exploited."

Emily stared, her mouth slightly open. It was like a light had finally gone on in a dark room. She was seeing every little compromise, every time she'd felt uncomfortable but said nothing, in a new, harsh light.

"My family... they're difficult," Ashley stammered, looking for an excuse.

"Your family is your problem," Sarah said. "You brought your problems into my daughter's life, into her home. You let them violate her sense of safety. And for that, there are consequences."

Tears streamed down Emily's face, but they were different now. They weren't tears of fear, but of dawning realization and betrayal. She looked at Ashley, her eyes clear and steady for the first time.

"My mom is right," Emily said, her voice quiet but firm. "I thought you were my friend. But you just used me. I don't want to see you again, Ashley. Ever."

The words hit Ashley harder than Sarah's slap had hit her brother. The performance fell away, and for a second, a look of pure, cold anger flashed across her face before being replaced by a mask of wounded heartbreak.

"Fine," Ashley spat, the tears suddenly gone. "Be like that. See if I care."

"Oh, you'll care," Sarah said calmly. She walked over to the hotel desk and picked up a notepad and pen. "I want a detailed, written list of everything you and your family stole or broke. I want the replacement value next to each item. And I want a written apology from your brother, admitting to what he did. You have 24 hours to get it to me at the police station. Otherwise, the detective proceeds with felony charges for breaking and entering, theft, and harassment."

Karen Green would never let her son sign such a thing. This was a test.

Ashley scoffed. "You're crazy. He'll never do that."

"Then he can explain that to a judge," Sarah said, turning her back on the girl. "Now get out."

Ashley stood there for a moment, seething. Then she turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Later that day, Sarah got a call from an unknown number. It was Karen Green.

"You think you're so smart, don't you?" Karen's voice was a low growl. "Forcing my daughter to write some stupid list."

"Did she do it?" Sarah asked.

There was a sound of a struggle on the other end, and then Ashley's voice, full of resentment. "I have the list. But my brother won't write the apology."

"Then the deal is off," Sarah said.

"Wait!" Karen shouted. "He'll sign it. The little idiot will sign it. We'll drop it off."

Sarah heard Karen in the background, yelling at her son. "You're signing this, you hear me? You're not getting a record because you're too proud to write 'I'm sorry'!"

Ashley got back on the phone. "We'll bring it to the station tomorrow," she said, her voice dripping with hatred. "You'll get your stupid letter."

Sarah hung up the phone. She knew the apology would be worthless, forced. But it wasn't about the words. It was about the paper. It was evidence. It was ammunition. And she was just getting started.