Chapter 4

The next day, Sarah took Emily back to the apartment. The mess was still there, a physical reminder of the violation. They didn't clean. Instead, Sarah had Emily walk her through everything, step by step.

"So, it started with just Ashley staying over," Sarah prompted gently.

Emily nodded, staring at a grease stain on the wall. "Yeah. For two nights. Then on the third day, her mom showed up with a suitcase. Ashley said her mom's boyfriend kicked her out and she just needed a place for one night. I... I felt bad for her, so I said okay."

"And the brother?"

"He came the next day. Ashley said he got into a fight with their stepdad and had nowhere to go. She promised it was just until he found a friend's couch to crash on. But he never left."

Emily's voice was flat, devoid of emotion. She was recounting the slow, creeping invasion of her life.

"They started small," Emily continued. "First it was just eating my food. Then Ashley 'borrowed' my new jacket. Then her mom started using my laptop without asking. When I tried to say something, Ashley would pull me aside and tell me how stressed her mom was, how I needed to be more understanding. She made me feel guilty."

"That's how they operate, honey," Sarah said, putting an arm around her daughter's shoulders. "People like that, they're like a vine. They find something good and they wrap themselves around it so tight that they choke the life out of it. They test your boundaries, one inch at a time. They take a finger, then a hand, then an arm. Before you know it, they've consumed you, and you don't even remember how it started."

Emily finally looked at her, her eyes filled with shame. "I feel so stupid."

"Don't," Sarah said firmly. "You're not stupid. You're kind. And you assumed other people are, too. That's not a flaw, Emily. But the world has wolves in it, and they love to dress up like sheep. This was a hard lesson, but it's one you needed to learn. Now you know what a wolf looks like."

Emily nodded, a single tear rolling down her cheek. "I know."

"Good," Sarah said. "Now, we're going to get you a new apartment. A better one, in a building with a doorman. And we're going to get them to pay for it."

She took out her phone and made two calls. The first was to a cleaning service that specialized in biohazard and crime scene cleanup. The second was to Emily's academic advisor at the university, Professor Albright.

"Professor," Sarah began, "I'm Emily Miller's mother. I need to talk to you about another student, Ashley Green."

Professor Albright was a sharp, perceptive woman in her fifties. "Ah, yes. Ashley. Let me guess. This isn't about academics."

"No, it's not," Sarah confirmed.

"I'm not surprised," the professor sighed. "Emily is a brilliant, kind-hearted student. Ashley... is a different story. She attaches herself to studious girls, uses their notes, gets them to help with her assignments. We've had a few informal complaints about her being manipulative, but nothing we could ever act on. She's very good at playing the victim. Is Emily alright?"

"She will be," Sarah said. "Thank you, Professor. You've been very helpful."

The information confirmed what Sarah already knew. Ashley had a pattern. This wasn't a one-time mistake; it was a lifestyle.

She hung up and turned to Emily. "From now on, you don't talk to Ashley. You don't answer her texts, you don't acknowledge her if you see her on campus. If she approaches you, you walk away and you call me immediately. Understand?"

"Yes, Mom."

They spent the rest of the day looking at new apartments online. Sarah found a promising one in a secure building and scheduled a viewing. For a few hours, things felt almost normal.

That evening, back at the hotel, Sarah noticed Emily was being quiet. Too quiet. She was staring at her phone, her face pale.

"What's wrong, honey?"

Emily quickly shut her phone off. "Nothing. I'm just tired."

Sarah knew she was lying. "Emily, show me your phone."

"It's nothing, Mom, really."

"Emily." Sarah' s voice was gentle but firm.

With trembling hands, Emily handed her the phone. Sarah unlocked it. There was a text from Ashley.

`I know you have it. The diary. My mom is going to kill me if she finds out what I wrote in there. Give it back, Emily. Please.`

Sarah's heart sank. "What diary, Emily?"

Emily wouldn't meet her eyes. She just shook her head, tears welling up again. "I can't find it. My journal. It was in my bedside table. It's gone."

Sarah felt a new wave of fury. They hadn' t just stolen things; they had stolen her daughter' s private thoughts.

"Emily, what did you write in that journal?"

Emily just shook her head, refusing to speak. She curled up on the bed, facing the wall, a silent, trembling ball of misery. Sarah knew, with a sickening certainty, that whatever was in that journal was about to become the next weapon used against them. The game had just changed again.