"And my niece sleeps upstairs. Her room's the last door on the right," I hear my uncle say as I walk inside.

I walk inside to see my uncle standing next to a woman. I come in behind them quietly, so I can't really see what she looks like. My uncle is staring intently at her and doesn't catch sight of me. If I didn't know him so well, I'd think he was attracted to her. I finally clear my throat, causing them to both turn around. My uncle smiles at me. That's something he's never done.

"There she is now," he tells the woman.

The woman smiles at me and holds her hand out for me to shake. I step forward and give her hand a small shake.

I turn to my uncle and ask, "Who's this?"

He goes a little pink at my rudeness but manages to reply with, "This is our new housekeeper."

The woman steps in and says, "I'm sorry for not introducing myself. My name's Emma Hunt."

I give her a small smile before saying, "Nice to meet you. I wish I could stay and listen to my uncle talk about all of his boring expectations, but I have homework to do."

I glance over to see my uncle trying not to smile at my words. I see Miss Hunt's lips twitching. I smile to myself as I begin to walk up the stairs and to my room.

I walk past my full length mirror and stop. I stare at my reflection. I always hate looking at myself in the mirror. To me, there's just a fat looking girl with acne problems. Sure, I use treatments for my face, but they've never gotten rid of every single pimple. My hair is thrown up into my usual ponytail; I rarely do anything nice with it. All in all, I think it's fair to say that I don't like myself.

Knock, knock.

I snap out of my self-criticizing mode before hurrying away from the mirror and towards my bed. I quickly pull something out of the backpack. I'm jumping onto my bed when I see Miss Hunt's face peek around the corner of the door.

"Yes?" I ask.

She walks in and closes the door behind her. "You don't have to pretend that you were doing your homework. I was your age once, and I understand that you can get distracted."

Instead of being nice to her, I harshly ask, "What are you doing in here?"

Unexpectedly, she calmly explains, "I wanted to see what you wanted for dinner. I'm not sure what y'all like around here, so I thought I'd ask you."

"Our last housekeeper never asked what I wanted. She always just made something and expected me to eat it."

She laughs slightly. "Well, I'm different. What would you like to eat?"

"Chicken spaghetti," I say without hesitation.

"I see, a girl after my own heart."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"That's one of my favorite dishes. I better go get started, and you better do your homework." She turns and begins to leave.

It's not until she uses her left hand to open the door, that I see a ring on her ring finger. It's not just any ring. It sparkles in the short amount of time I see it, and I faintly see the shape of a diamond. I'm puzzled by this. If she's engaged or married, why would she be working as a housekeeper?

I ignore the nagging feeling I have and get started on my homework. Before I know it, I've finished everything I need to. I get my laptop and open it up. The first thing I see is a notification from our online high school newspaper. I roll my eyes and sigh as I go to look at the new article.

After reading only a few sentences, tears are forming in my eyes. It's about me, and surprise, Cassandra wrote it. When will she ever stop?

"The Inside Story About the Town Outcast and Secret Criminal."

This isn't the first time she's tried something like this. I don't even bother looking at all the comments on it because the last time I did, it didn't end well. I sigh and mutter things about Cassandra, hoping it will make me feel at least a little better. It doesn't make me feel better.

I hear a knock on the door before someone slowly opens the door. I quickly shut my laptop and wipe my eyes, hoping that it's not my uncle. It's Miss Hunt, that is if she isn't married.

"Yes, Miss Hunt?" I ask.

"Time for dinner, and I insist that you call me Emma. Miss Hunt is too formal," she replies.

I roll my eyes. "I always eat in my room," I state.

She comes over to me and carefully shuts my laptop. I hold my breath as I get ready for her to yell because she's mad at me. Instead, she just smiles at me.

"Well, things are going to be different now that I'm here," she says.

I'm surprised for multiple reasons. First, she didn't yell at me and didn't seem mad at all. Secondly, she smiled at me with a real smile. Thirdly, she spoke really kindly, unlike most people.

She gestures for me to stand up and follow her. Surprisingly, I do just that. It's like she has some sort of special power that makes her able to tell people what to do without making them upset or angry. I think it's because she speaks kindly and with a smile on her face. Then again, I hardly know her so how could I possibly know that about her? I must be going crazy.

She leads me downstairs, and I'm greeted by an amazing aroma of chicken spaghetti and garlic bread. What surprises me even more is the kitchen. Instead of being spotless, as it usually is, there are a few dishes in the sink, and the oven is on.

"Does my uncle know you cooked in here?" I ask her.

She laughs, and her laugh reminds me of soft ringing bells. "He watched me while I cooked, and I think he even enjoyed the smell of the food traveling through the house."

She motions for me to sit down. I sit down at the dining room table and see my uncle sitting across from me, staring at his phone. I sigh.

"I'll take that," Emma says as she quietly and swiftly takes my uncle's phone out of his hands.

I burst out laughing. Instead of getting angry, my uncle just looks at me and smiles. He turns to Emma and gives a fake scowl. Emma just sticks her tongue out. I laugh even harder at this. Nobody has ever dared to touch my uncle's phone, much less stick their tongue out at him.

"Please, enjoy your meal," she says before walking away with his phone in her hand.

Now that she's gone, I realize I'm left alone with my uncle, and I immediately stop laughing, and he looks over at me. I ignore him looking at me and reach for some food. I spoon a good sized portion onto my plate and pick up a piece of bread. My uncle does the same.

"How was school?" he asks.

"Too personal," is all I say.

"I'm trying, Maya. I really am, so can you at least try a little too?"

I sigh. "It was horrible."

"Why?"

"Because I have stupid parents, and I have an uncle who hasn't once questioned me about my life until now," I almost shout in anger.

He sets his fork down. "Maya, I told you that I was sorry."

"And I told you I wasn't ready for this. I appreciate you trying, but it's like I told you before; one apology after four years isn't going to change everything right away," I tell him as I stand up.

"Maya, please listen to me," he pleads.

I ignore him and hurry out of the dining room and back up to my room. I grab my laptop and hurry to my little balcony that overlooks the private beach area. I set the laptop on the small table beside my chair and stand at the railing. I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and just stand to listen to the sound of waves. I let the wind blow my hair around as if it's blowing away my pain and trouble; if only it was that easy.

"Maya?" a soft voice asks from behind me.

I open my eyes and turn around to see Emma standing behind me with a compassionate look on her face. I sigh and turn back around, waiting for the angry words or criticism to come out of her mouth. They don't. Instead, Emma stands next to me and takes my hand in hers comfortingly.

"It's going to be okay," she whispers.

"How would you know that? Everyone tells me that, but they have no idea what I've gone through," I snap at her bitterly as I slip my hand out of hers and sit down in my chair.

"Life throws things at us that are meant to tear us down. We can't let it tear us down because we could lose ourselves for good. I've had so many things thrown at me that always try to tear me down for good, but I have to keep pushing on," she says.

"Well, life has thrown too much at me for me to find any hope in it getting better. I've waited too long for it all to get better."

"Nothing is too big to overcome. We just can't always do it alone. We need help to overcome the stuff in our lives."

"I don't have anyone," I say miserably.

"That isn't true. You have an uncle who truly wants to restore a broken relationship."

I stare at her. "You've only been here for a few hours. How can you possible know anything?"

She smiles. "I happen to study my surroundings. I prefer to observe the people around me than talk. It's amazing what you can see in a short amount of time if you just sit and watch. Maya, I know you have a lot of pain that's eating you up inside. Sometimes, you have to let yourself release that pain so you can forgive. It isn't easy, but who said it was?"

I don't respond. I hate getting this advice from people, but she speaks as though she knows what it's like to feel what I'm feeling. Before her, I've never had someone speak to me as though they actually know what I'm going through. I thought I was the only one who has ever felt like this.

"What have you been through?" I ask.

She steps toward the balcony door to leave and says, "That's a story for another time. Goodnight, Maya."

I don't reply as she leaves. I stare at the private beach area as the sun continues to set. Lights have been turned on all around the beach, and I can see a lone figure walking beside the water. I stare at the figure until the figure is away from my sightline.

I turn to my laptop and open up Google search. I search for a blogging website. I find a good one and open the website up. In just a few minutes, I've set up my own blog. I stare at the blank page for a few minutes, trying to think of something to write. I finally have an idea, so I begin to type away.

Just like I said earlier, writing is a way for me to escape the real world for a little while. It allows me to become someone who has a voice. It's my therapy for when I've had a long day. It helps me show that I'm not who everyone paints me to be. It helps me get one step closer to figuring out who I truly am and who I want to be.

I type my worries away and listen to the soft sounds of the ocean in the background. It's completely dark now, so I stop typing for a second to turn on my balcony lights that are wrapped around the balcony railing. I quickly hurry back to my chair and continue to type.

I write about getting a new housekeeper and how she's like no one I've ever met in the last four years. I write about having lies told about me. I write about not having my own voice. I write about the strange day I've had.

Soon enough, I go back to my room and get ready for bed. I switch my lights off when I'm in bed and continue to write. I finish my draft and take a break from staring at my laptop screen. I then go back to my blog entry and read over it.

I finish reading over it and pause. I hesitate to post it. Will someone find this and use it against me? Is this really a smart choice? What happens if someone knows it's me? I overrule all my second thoughts and quickly post the blog entry to avoid having second thoughts.

I power my laptop off and slip under my covers. I toss and turn for awhile, wondering if this blog thing was a good or bad idea. I try to get it off my mind, but it takes forever for me to fall asleep. When I do, it's my usual deep slumber.