She sat alone on the shore of the lake, pale blue eyes dancing as they watched the ripples crash into the sand. Her amber locks of hair blew against her shoulders, the black hooded sweatshirt she had slipped on that morning pushing against her skin in the heavy lakeside breeze. Arms caressed each other tightly as she huddled for warmth, eyelids squinting and batting together as the wind drew across her lightly freckled face. This girl looked slightly younger than her actual age of sixteen, petite in stature with the body of a woman, her mother always told her she was beautiful. In the distance a layer of gray began to float into the middle of the sky, the horizon forming into a large, gray quilt of sorts. Her name was called from behind her, a familiar figure jogging toward her with mild athleticism.

"Emma, where have you been? I've been looking everywhere. Well, you have to come home.. mom is fuming."

Her face swivelled around to stare at the figure whom had approached her in such a hurried fashion, head shaking as if she were mildly annoyed. This girl, presumably her younger sister, rose off of her knees, her arms previously clutching them as if she had run a great distance. Rising as well, Emma began to stroll casually in the direction that her sister had come, unrushed and seeming to have little worry of the consequences of her action. When she finally reached the porch of her home, a quiant lakeside cottage tinted a light blue, her hand stretched toward the handle and turned it to open the door, creaking resistantly upon its frame. No one was in sight, and upon this realization Emma ascended the stairs that led to two separate small bedrooms and a bath situated alongside the larger of the two. Pushing open the entrance to her own bedroom, Emma lay outstretched upon the lavender comforter. Knowing full well that her mother would be angry at her for leaving again, she decided to push the thought from her mind and concentrate on the prospect of school arriving in a single month. July was nearing its end, and the unpredictable weather of Michigan was making the days seem shorter and morose. Clouds forever dotted the horizon, and on occasion the cottage on the lake was hit with thunderstorms and great amounts of rain. Not that this bothered Emma, but she wished she was still in the south, still in Florida. There she had her first true love, her best friend, even her father. So many things had changed in that past year her mother was astounded at how well her daughter seemed to take things, never becoming angry, even on that fateful night. Emma had been told about her father -- he was a bad man, they said -- and the mother immediately moved them up north, north to a lakeside cottage for temporary living. In August they would be forced to move once more, but this time twenty miles west to a suburb.

The cottage had been welcoming and warm, the neighbors kind and gracious, one even inviting the family of three to a barbecue. How sweet, her mother had said, though her eyes still carried the hurt that she had wanted to leave behind in Tampa. Emma sensed this, yet for some strange reason she couldn't steer clear of petty arguments and fights with this woman, the woman she'd loved since her childhood. They had become so distant lately that she had little hope of regaining a solid relationship. Jean, her mother, was under stress, coming into menopause, had recently 'lost' her husband to the Florida correctional program, and for good reason. He was a bad man. As the room began to settle into the darkness of the evening, her mother cracked open the bedroom door and silently pulled it shut after watching her daughter drift into a deep slumber. In the morning, she said in a hushed whisper.