<div style="text-align: justify;">“I hate this place. I want to get out. I want to go home”. And then again. And again. These words were like a mantra in Miss Duncan’s mind. It was as though repeating them - very quietly - to herself over and over again was the one thing keeping her from screaming bloody murder. She had been there for just a while, but it felt like forever. And she was mad. Very mad. And worried. And hurt. She didn’t belong in that place. Her situation wasn’t that bad… right?<br/><br/>If Emily were to be honest with herself, she would admit that yes, the situation was bad. Things had never been easy for Emily - not due to life circumstances, but due to her own nature. <br/><br/>Emily was a perfectionist, pure and simple. She was also very prone to isolating herself. And well, if she were to admit it, she was a nerdy girl. Always having her nose stuck in books, always learning and studying, and not caring much about socializing, either in school or anywhere else. Of course, that made her a very easy target for bullies. But she didn’t seem to mind. At least on the exterior, it didn’t bother her at all.<br/><br/>On the inside, the bullying caused Emily a huge amount of anxiety. She didn’t really want to tell her parents about her troubles. In her mind, they were too busy to hear. So, she took another route and started journaling. Having a journal to write on helped a lot. And with time, Emily took a liking for writing and started branching out. It started with small fiction stories, and once she was secure enough to allow people to read what she wrote, she started writing for her school’s newspaper. That made things better for Emily, as it made her moderately popular - not that she was looking for that. But it was still nice to be known as something other than the nerdy girl.<br/><br/>After high school, Emily already knew what she wanted to do with her life. She wanted to write. It didn’t matter where or how, but she wanted to write. After going through college - planning on being a journalist -, Emily was lucky enough to land a job at a small print publication fresh after graduation, and then moved on to a news site, while writing fiction on the side. Life was good, and there was nothing Emily could want for. <br/><br/>At least until about three years back. That was when Emily’s mother had suddenly died of a heart attack. It was sudden and terrible for both Emily and her father. She had just talked to her mother a few hours before, and had noticed nothing wrong at all - something she would probably hold against herself forever. After that, everything seemed to fall on Emily’s shoulders. Funeral arrangements, work, taking care of her distraught father - who didn’t really know how to take care of himself without his wife -, and keeping herself from losing control. <br/><br/>And that was when the mess started. In a few days’ time, Emily was so tired she could barely stay awake. And she still had to work to keep her job with all the mess she was going through. It was a job she couldn’t afford to lose, after all. But if she kept on going to work exhausted, it was a given that she would end up losing it. And then it started. She started taking pills to stay awake, and consequently, pills to fall asleep. <br/><br/>It seemed harmless at first, of course. Pretty much every addiction did, right? But as time went by, Emily became unable to function without the pills, and that’s when things became worse. And worse. And worse. And now she was here, and unable to take care of father, job, and probably even herself.<br/><br/>In that point of Emily’s thoughts, she heard knocking on the door. Oh, look, they were polite, knocked on the door and all that. And even asked if they could come in. Like she had the choice to say no. “Sure”, was the answer, quiet and somewhat indifferent. No, she wasn’t indifferent, she was mad as hell. But not showing her emotions was an art Emily had mastered ages ago.</div>