clenches her fists, the memory of her aunt's sneering face ,made her thought of her aunt's house looms. "It's just a place to sleep," Emily reminds herself, steeling her resolve. The walk home is long and cold, the sky darkening as the day wanes. Emily clutches her notepad tightly, the fragile hope it contains a shield against the bleakness of her surroundings. Reaching the familiar, dilapidated house, Emily hesitates before pushing open the creaking door. The smell of stale cigarette smoke and simmering resentment hangs heavy in the air from the street. "I can do this," Emily whispers, stepping inside.Emily slips inside, hoping to avoid her aunt's sharp eyes. The floorboards groan under her weight as she tiptoes towards her small room, a cramped space under the eaves of the house. The room is barely big enough for a narrow bed and a small, rickety desk, but it's Emily's sanctuary. Closing the door behind her, Emily leans against it, taking a deep breath. The silence is broken only by the distant rumble of traffic. Emily pulls out her notepad again, the park's calm returning as she focuses on her plans. "No distractions," Emily thinks, determined to make the most of her limited time and space.Exhaustion washes over her, the day's disappointments weighing heavily. Without changing, Emily crawls under the thin covers of her bed, curling into a tight ball. The noise from the television seeps through the walls, a constant reminder of her situation, but Emily closes her eyes, willing herself to drift away. Soon, sleep claims her, a temporary escape from the harsh realities of her life.
