The young woman lean exactly as she had a half hour ago, staring at the mirror across the room, though at the sound of steps coming up the stares the young woman moved her gaze to the door just as a knock came on the hardwood. The door was cracked at the bottom for how hard she had hit it once after a collision with their father, an old blood stain on the bottom of the wood that she did her best to ignore but it was hard since every time she came home it happened again. Standing, Emilia tugged the sleeves of her sweater down and zipped up the front of the garment she was wearing before walking over to the door and opening it quietly. 

[color=pink]"Hey Grant."[/color]

Emilia smiled softly at him, a sweetness that hid behind her quiet shyness normally; a smile that hid the pain from their home life and the hate she felt for the man who sired her and the house her mother picked. A smile at hid the disgust she felt with her own existence and sometimes she thought that her brother could see it though today she saw a hint of hope in his eyes when she opened the door and looked up at him. She had heard people compare him and their father, talking about how similar they looked though Emilia had never really seen it since he was gentler and kind where the man was rough and abusive; no one but her ever saw that though, not with how sweetly she smiled and how good of a father he could be in public. [color=pink]"How was your day?"[/color] She asked him, opening the door more and stepping away so that he could come into the room that she had been assigned when she was little. It was a plain shade of purple with few things on the wall. Her bed rested against the wall away from the door, just beside her window; a small four drawer dresser sat on against the wall opposite the bed with the mirror beside it. There was a book shelf beside the dresser, holding a few binders and what books she had managed to collect and keep form her mothers collection; the shelf itself a gift from her brother a few years ago when he found the cardboard box beneath her bed when she'd gotten really sick. 

Leaving the door open she him she stepped away, holding both her her hands behind her back, with the sweater she wore covering most of her skin from his gaze though the finger marked bruises around her neck weren't something she could easily hide from him. [color=pink]"You look like something good happened."[/color] She looked up at him with soft grey eyes; eyes that look very much like those of the woman in the pictures though her hair was died pink in an effort to look different and minimize the damage from his drunk rages. It hadn't worked well though she enjoyed the colour more than the soft honey it had been before; it was easy if she just looked away and didn't cry. She never did.