[Emily’s POV]
I stop talking immediately when Maddie says my name. Something in her tone makes my stomach drop—it's small and uncertain, like she's bracing for impact.
She's sitting on her bed across from me, hands twisting together in her lap in that anxious way she has when she's about to say something she knows I won't want to hear.
The way she's staring at the floor instead of at me sends my pulse racing, because Maddie only avoids eye contact when she's scared.
"What's wrong?" I ask, setting my textbook aside and shifting to face her fully. The practiced smile she's been wearing for weeks isn't there anymore.
She just looks exhausted—dark circles under her eyes, shoulders hunched in a way that makes her look smaller than she is.
"I need to tell you something," she says, and her voice cracks slightly. She takes a breath, steadying herself. "My dad's been calling me. For a few weeks now."
The words hit me like cold water. I try to wrap my head around it, like it’s a particularly difficult equation, but it’s even worse. "A few weeks? Maddie, why didn't you—"
"I know," she cuts me off, still not looking at me. "I know I should have told you. But I didn't know what to say, and I didn't want to worry you, and I just—I needed time to process it myself first."
"Process what?" My chest feels tight, like someone's squeezing it. My mind races through the implications—weeks of calls, weeks of hiding this. "What does he want?"
"He wants to have dinner," Maddie says, and finally her eyes meet mine. They're red-rimmed, desperate. "Just family. He wants to talk things through, figure stuff out. He says he's been thinking a lot, that maybe he reacted too strongly before."
I stand up without meaning to, my body rejecting the information before my brain can catch up. "Are you serious right now? After everything he did to you—cutting you off, making you choose between him and me, treating you like you're broken—he makes a few phone calls and you think he's changed?"
"I didn't say he's changed," Maddie says, defensive now. Her shoulders go up, that familiar armor sliding into place. "I said maybe. Maybe he has. People can change, Emily. He's my father. He sounded genuine. He said my mom misses me."
"Of course he sounded genuine," I say, and my voice comes out sharper than I mean it to. I can hear the edge in it, and can feel the panic making me cruel.
"That's how manipulation works, Maddie.” I get louder, then catch myself and tone it down. “He's not going to call you and say 'hey, come home so I can convince you you're making a mistake.' He's going to sound loving and concerned and genuine because that's how he gets what he wants."
She flinches like I've slapped her, and I see the exact moment my words land—the way her eyes widen slightly, the way she pulls back. "You don't know that. You don't know him."
"I know what he did to you!" I'm moving now, pacing because I can't sit still, can't process this while staying in one place.
The dorm room suddenly feels too small, the walls closing in. "I know he made you feel like shit for being gay. I know he withdrew all support and left you scrambling to stay in school. I know he made you think you had to choose between your family and being yourself."
"And maybe he realizes that was wrong!" Maddie's voice rises to match mine. She's standing now too, facing me across the small space of our dorm. "Maybe he's had time to think about it and he wants to make things right. Is that so impossible to believe?"
"Yes," I say flatly. "Yes it is. Because abusive parents don't just wake up one day and decide to be better, Maddie. They circle back when they realize they're losing control. They say exactly what you need to hear so you'll come back, and then once you're back, once you're dependent on them again, they go right back to the same shit."
"You don't know what you're talking about," Maddie says, and there's something dangerous in her voice now. "Don’t call him abusive. You have no idea what it's like to have a parent reject you.”
And now it’s personal. I brace for impact, still in my place. “Your mom has been nothing but supportive. You don't understand what it feels like to—to have your dad look at you like you're broken. To wonder if maybe you are. To want so badly for him to just love you the way he used to."
The accusation stings, sharp and unexpected. "I'm trying to protect you," I say, and I can hear the desperation creeping into my voice. "I'm trying to keep you from getting hurt again."
"Are you?" Maddie asks, and her eyes are bright with tears and anger. "Or are you trying to control me? Because right now it feels like you're trying to control me, Emily. Why are you trying to keep me from my parents? Why do you get to decide if I see them or not?"
The words hit me like a physical blow. I actually step back, staring at her. "That's not—I'm not trying to keep you from anyone. I'm trying to keep you from getting manipulated into hating yourself again. Can't you see the difference?"
"What I see," Maddie says, and her voice is shaking now, "is that you think you know what's best for me better than I do. You think I can't make my own choices. That I need you to protect me from my own father."
"You do need protection from him!" I can't believe we're having this conversation. "Maddie, he's been calling you for weeks. Weeks. Working on you, wearing you down, making you doubt yourself.”
I throw my hands in the air, exasperated. “And it's working. You're standing here defending him, talking about giving him a chance, when two months ago you were crying about how he abandoned you."
"Maybe I want a relationship with my parents," Maddie says. "Maybe that's more important to me than—than staying away just because you think it's a bad idea."
"Then make your choices," I say, and my voice breaks on the last word. I’m tired. I’m so tired, I realize finally, of all this push-and-pull. One moment I think we’re okay, and then… then this happens."Make them, Maddie. But don't ask me to watch you destroy yourself."
For a moment we just stare at each other across the small space of our dorm room. Her face is flushed, tears tracking down her cheeks, and I can feel my own eyes burning. Everything feels wrong, like the floor is tilting under my feet.
Then Maddie grabs her jacket from where it's hanging on her desk chair. She doesn't look at me as she shoves her arms into the sleeves, doesn't say anything as she crosses to the door.
When she yanks it open, it's with enough force that it slams against the wall, and then she's gone, the door slamming shut behind her with a sound that echoes through the sudden silence.
I stand there in the empty dorm, shaking. My hands are trembling and my chest feels too tight and I can't get enough air.
The space where Maddie was standing moments ago feels vast and cold, and I have the horrible, sinking feeling that the ground just opened beneath me and swallowed everything whole.