Dropping my bag on the floor, I search for signs that someone else has been in here. The blanket on my bed has been mussed, as if someone pulled it back and then tucked it back in. My pillows are also out of order. I know because I always put them against the headboard in a certain order. The pink and white rug on the floor has been shifted, and one side bubbles up. I walk across it, flattening the shape.

The desk. Everything has been organized. My heart slams against my ribcage and my palms begin to sweat. I walk over on stiff legs. Sift through the papers scribbled with notes and figures for homework, the sketches and doodles Elsha sometimes gives me for no reason other than she wants to. The notebook isn’t here.

I yank open the drawers, searching frantically. I had left it on the desk, not thinking. With every stack of paper I sift through and I don’t find it, I grow more frantic, until I spot a splash of green. I pull out the turquoise notebook with its peacock motif, all the adrenaline rushing out of my body. Falling to the floor, I hold it to my chest, shaking.

It’s here. Mom didn’t find it. I flip through the pages, just in case. None of them have been torn out. Thank the seven skies! She must have thought it was just homework, since most of it is Ryuji and I discussing class notes.

Wait. My other notebook. If she had gone through my things and organized my drawers—my story!

I drop the two-way notebook and search again. I had left my story notebook in the bottom drawer, buried beneath everything else. I yank the drawer open and stare in horror. All of the notebooks and pages and pencils have been organized in neat piles. Grabbing all of them, I heave the notebooks out and spread them across the floor.

The orange, spiral-bound notebook isn’t here.

It isn’t here.

“Where is it?” I cry, hands trembling as I pick the notebooks up and put them down again, hoping, wishing that the orange one will be there. But now matter how many times I look through them, or flip that pages, or rearrange them, it’s not there.

“Mom!” the word rips from my throat in a desperate scream. I burst from my room and into her office.

Mom looks up at me from her computer. Her eyes are hard. Cold. For a moment I remain frozen. Afraid. How am I supposed to confront her on this? She’ll yell at me again.

But I can’t let this go. Not this time. Not after what happened last time.

“Mom, where’s my notebook?” I say it as calmly as I can, though my voice shakes.

Mom sighs and crosses her arms. She averts her gaze as if just seeing me is tiring. “What notebook? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“My notebook with my—” I can’t say it. I can’t say it to her face. “The orange notebook. The one in my drawer. Did you throw it out?”

Her eyes narrow and she raises a brow. “I merely tidied your things and got rid of what you didn’t need. Really, you need to clean your room better. Then I wouldn’t have to come in after you.”

But my room was clean before she came. I always make sure it’s spotless every time I’m about to leave the house so that things like this don’t happen.

Mom continues to pin me with her glare. “What was so special about this notebook? I hope you weren’t wasting your time with it.”

I throw my hands up. “How am I supposed to waste time with a notebook? I was just—” Again, I cut myself off.

Mom stands. That’s when I notice what’s on her desk. Right there, next to her computer. The notebook is open, and every page that I wrote on have been ripped out, torn to pieces in the wastebasket by her feet.

My heart aches, as if she’s just stabbed me. She might as well have. I slap my hands over my mouth to hold back the scream that wants to escape. Hot tears flood my eyes. I blink hard. I can’t let her see me cry.

Mom steps over to me until she’s inches away, looming over me. She’s only two inches taller than me but it’s enough. I feel myself shrink beneath her gaze.

“You were just, what?” She dares me to finish, mouth pinched in a straight line, a dangerous light in her eyes. “What were you doing, Keelin?”

The ground is crumbling beneath my feet. The future I worked so hard for, the words I spent hours cultivating, placing on paper. She’s destroyed it all.

That story was my way out. It was my escape. My freedom. And she crushed it, just like she’s crushed everything else.

“Well?”

I drop my gaze, unable to face her. “Nothing,” I whisper.

“That’s right. It was nothing. And it will always be nothing. You need to focus on your future, Keelin. Not on frivolous games that will waste your time. Our lives are short. It’s time you start thinking realistically.” She folds her arms, done with the discussion.

Turning, I flee from the room. The moment I reach my room I slam the door shut. I tense a moment, expecting her to yell at me for it, but she doesn’t. I crumple to my knees before the notebooks and paper scattered across my floor.

She took it.

She destroyed it.

My story. My…

I need to hide the two-way notebook. Somewhere she’ll never find it. If she realizes that Ryuji and I were writing a story in it—

Then it would be like last time. Last time, when she found my writing. When she took everything I had worked so hard on and forced me to watch her as she burned it all in the fireplace.

I grab the notebook from my desk and stand in the middle of the floor, searching for somewhere, anywhere she hasn’t looked. There. In my closet, with the rest of the stories I kept hidden from her. But that box… I shake my head. I have to. If I don’t, Mom will destroy this, too. Pulling the clothes off, I open the box and shove the notebook inside, with the rest of my notebooks, paper, and binders.

At least I still have these.

But that story…the contest…the money…

Images of my muse clenched in her fist flash through my mind, and I gasp, fear crawling its way back under my skin. My hands shake. I need to get out of here. I need to run, run as far away as possible until I’m so far that Mom will never be able to find me. Until I’m free and can breathe again.

Should I keep going like this? Pursuing writing…it’s everything I’ve always wanted and yet it hurts so, so much. Or should I put it all aside, go back to being the good little girl Mom always wanted? But going back…going back to that existence…. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t see. My world has expanded so much, even if I hadn’t realized it. I don’t ever want it to shrink like that again.

I need to talk to someone. But who? I can’t talk to Dad. I can’t bother him with something like this and give him even more to stress about. And I can’t talk to Elsha. I don’t want her involved in this battle between me and Mom any more than she already is.

My hands shake as I pull my phone from my pocket and open my messages to Ryu. I type out a message. It’s just two words: Help me.

I hit send before I can think about it. I stare at the screen, at the words staring up at me. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m just wasting his time. He doesn’t need to be involved.

The theme to Warrior Trials blares from my phone and I jump, almost dropping it. My eyes snap into focus. Ryu’s calling me. Shaking, I hit the answer button and hold the phone to my ear.

“Hello?” I whisper.

“Keelin? Hey, what's up? You okay?” His voice is garbled, like he’s in a spot with bad connection.

“I…I guess…” How do I answer that? I never know what the appropriate thing to say is.

“Meet me at Inkdrink Square.”

“Right now?”

“Yeah. Right now.” I’ve never heard him so serious before.

“But…” I glance at the door. Mom’s still home. I doubt I’ll be able to sneak out.

“I don’t care how you do it, just get over here. I need to talk to you.” He hangs up, not giving me any room to argue.