Jaxon gave me a look that indicated he had not expected me to say that.

I understood. He was aware that I had "amnesia," but he was unaware of the extent to which it affected my memory. But it would be easy to explain that away.

I then heard a scoff followed by a small chuckle.

“What? Just because of that? I thought you were going to say something serious,” Jaxon’s dad said. 

“… Excuse me?” 

"Today's kids are soft. You know, back in my day, bullying was something that everyone had to go through. Having your PE uniform get dirty, being picked on during dodgeball, having your locker forced open… It built character and helped in forming memories that you can’t trade for anything in life. You know?”

'It may also lead to school shootings. But go off, I guess.’

"It also toughened children and prepared them for life in general. But nowadays, everybody is a crybaby. You say one thing, and suddenly you’re reported to the disciplinary committee at the workplace. Or someone has an emotional breakdown right in front of you,” Kenneth groaned.

I chose to ignore that.

“But Mr. Barrett, this isn’t what you would call ‘normal’ bullying. It goes past insults. I could even say it’s abuse,” I said.

Kenneth scoffed again.

“Emma, don’t you think you’re taking things too far by calling it abuse?”

"No, really. I’ve been insulted and called names a young girl like me shouldn’t hear at her age. Heck, I’ve even been insulted and hit for things I didn’t even do. The kids there know how to get creative with the stuff they pull on me. And they do this almost every day. Mr. Barrett, after hearing what I have told you, do you really want me to go back there?”

I needed to think fast. I had no idea what Emma went through at Saint Lucas, but given the state she was in when I possessed her body, I had to cover all bases.

“It’s not that different from what I and everyone else went through when we were your age,” Kenneth shrugged. “It’s normal. You just need to develop a shell and put up with it. Again, that kind of stuff builds character.”

‘This guy isn’t listening to me, is he?’ 

“Didn’t you hear me tell you I get beaten?”

"When I was your age, girls would hit other girls, and boys would hit boys..." It’s high school,” Kenneth shrugged.

… What was up with Kenneth's reasoning? It becomes a big deal if it was Emma’s father, but it’s not when it’s teenagers? Did he really believe there was a difference in the impact of hits based on age? Did he think that teenagers, just because they aren’t adults yet, can’t hit as hard as actual adults? That they can’t inflict harm like adults?

At that point, I began to suspect he was gaslighting me. But then I remembered something.

"You said I was on a scholarship," I mentioned. “Can’t I just transfer it to someone else and continue in a normal public school?”

“No,” Kenneth replied almost immediately.

“Why not?”

“It’s a scholarship. It doesn’t work like that. You can’t just give out your scholarship to someone else. You’ve technically used half of it, anyway. And Emma, it will be like you’re spitting on the faces of everyone who wants to go to Saint Lucas. Don’t you know how many impoverished kids want to join the school you got enrolled in? How do you think they would feel if they knew that someone who got the chance to join their dream school just blew it off?”

I didn’t want to agree, but Kenneth had a point. However, I suspected those kids would want to leave that school after going through what Emma did.

Kenneth then sighed.

“Emma, I’m not even the one in control of this decision. It’s your mom. She told me she wanted you to continue learning at that school. And honestly, I agree with her. In spite of everything, that place is the best for you. You can’t get into another school that has everything that Saint Lucas has.”

‘This f*cking–’

“But–” I went to speak, but he intervened.

“Trust the adults when we say that school is the best for you--”

“No, it is not. You’re not even listening to me.”

“Emma--”

“ I’m telling you it is not. Besides, that woman who dares to call herself my mother has no right to decide anything in my life anymore. Why are you even talking to her?”

“Emma--”

“Have you forgotten the fact that she just stood and did nothing when my father hit me? And on another note, how is that different from what I’ve told you? How is what I am telling you about my experience at that school different from what James did to me?”

Kenneth stammered briefly. He then closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

“Emma, you’re right. What you went through has been unfortunate, and I am sorry you had to go through that. But just as you said, it was your father. It was your father who did that to you. Your mother had no hand in what happened to you.”

I made a sound of disbelief. It felt like we were going around in circles.

“That’s why, as your parent, she’s trying to ensure you get the best. Even while she’s in jail. Don't you think you should be acting grateful for what she's done?”

“Are you kidding me right now? That bitch–”

“Watch your tone,” Kenneth warned, now glaring at me. He seemed to have had enough. 

“I may not be your father, but you should at least show your mother some respect, especially with what she’s done for you.”

I was stunned by his sudden change in tone.

“I’m trying to understand where you’re coming from. I really am, but you’re acting like an ungrateful brat. Did you think that the hospital ward came for free? If it weren’t for your mother, you wouldn’t even have had someone to take care of you. Or what, you’d rather stay out and become homeless? Do you think living alone is easy at your age?” 

“You think I’m acting like a brat?” my voice returned.

“Yes,” Kenneth had the nerve to reply. “You’re being an ungrateful brat who doesn’t appreciate the things her mother does for her. If you understood what I’m telling you and see the point I’m trying to get to you–”

“But that’s the point, you are not even considering what I'm saying. How does what I’m trying to tell you turn into me acting like a brat? Must I repeat myself? Mr. Barrett, I just told you I get hit at that school. I. Get. Hit! I go through hell at that place! And on top of that, I’ve been abused by my father. Again, how the hell is that different from what I’ve told you about what I go through at that school? Do you know what it feels like to go through hell at school, only to return home where more hell is waiting for me? Do you know the anxiety that eats up at me on an almost daily basis, wondering if I’ll do something and get hit for it by either my father or my peers? And when I request to change schools… I'm not even saying I won't continue my education. I just want to change schools. How the hell does that come off as me being a brat?”

My outburst was met with silence at the table. Jaxon had his eyes wide in shock, and Kenneth  didn’t look amused by my words.

“You know what, fuck it. I’m getting out of here.”

Initially, it seemed as though my words were lost on them.

“Emma–”

I ignored Kenneth.

“Young lady, if you leave this table–”

“Oh, I’m almost giddy with excitement to know what the fuck you’ll do if I dare to leave this table. I’m curious, Mr. Barrett. What will you do?”

“Young lady, sit your ass back down–”

“How about no?” I cut him off, beginning to make my way to the foyer.

“You won’t be welcomed back in this house. You’ll live in the streets. Do you have any idea what that means?”

His words had me pause my steps, but not for the reaction he had expected.

“Oh, I know it will be better than living in this place.”

“Emma, you would rather live in the streets?” Kenneth said.

“Yes!” I practically yelled. 

I paused in my steps for a moment.

“A hundred times yes. It would be better than staying in a house where my words would just be ignored.”

I then stormed off, heading towards the exit.