by Nicole Rae
She knew she should say something, anything. Instead, she kept walking feeling ridiculous. He saved her life and she couldn't even say thank you, if nothing else. Well, either that or she could attempt to decipher, where it was they were going.
He held on to her arm tightly, butshe didn’t feel trapped. It seemed he was trying to hold her up, which was nice. Her body felt as though it weighed four hundred pounds. In addition to that, it seemed like there were heavy sand bags in her shoes. Fatigue overwhelmed her and yet, she was wide awake.
At that moment, Emily realized her entire body was trembling. She must be in shock, that’s why she couldn’t speak. She did feel cold. However, she had figured that was the temperature outside and not her body’s reaction to the trauma.
What exactly had happened? Her memory was starting to feel fuzzy, something bad happened. He saved her, but what had he saved her from? She barely had time to gasp, when she stumbled clumsily over a crack in the sidewalk. He stiffened his hold and she never lost a step. Great, now he was saving her from herself.
After walking for what seemed like forever, they were turning down Elm Street. She had lived on this road her entire life. He couldn’t know that, could he? Maybe he lives nearby? It was possible that he had seen her around. Without a pause, he walked three doors down and to the left.
Emily’s house looked creepy in the dark. Some of the faded white paint was chipping and the yard needed a good mowing. Her dad usually kept it short, although lately had been slacking off immensely.
As he directed her up the path to the front door, she noticed no porch lights were on. Good, her dad wasn’t home yet. That meant she had time to throw something together for dinner before he had time to lose it.
Finally, he spoke, “Here, you're safe and sound. If you are able to recall anything from tonight, be sure not to tell anyone. It’s less complicated that way,I assure you.” He peered down at her intently, conveying the importance of what he was saying.
If I’m able, she thought. The memories were already fading without her permission. Somewhere inside her, she knew that wasn’t normal, she justcouldn’t muster enough worry to care. “Why?” She asked confused. “Shouldn’t I call the police?” How could she not tell the police or Sam that she was attacked? That was just madness, crimes should be reported.
His face grew hard asstone. “Absolutely not,” he said firmly. “That won’t do you any good.” Emily started to protest but he cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Look. There are things at work here that the police can’t fix.” His beautiful eyes softened a fraction. “I need you to promise you won’t tell. I can’t explain now,but it’s important.”
It was always necessary to report an attack like this to the police. Emily knew that. The mantra kept replaying in her ears over and over again. Even though she knew it, she found herself nodding stupidly at him. She wasn’t a weak person. No way was she one of those girls, who were easily persuaded by a guy’s power of manipulation. There was just something about him that made her confident that this time; this one was speaking the truth. She wondered idly if he was part of some crazy conspiracy.
His answering smile cleared that right up. “Good.” He turned to walk away and Emily realized she didn’t know his name.
She turned back to ask and he wasn’t there. He must have run. Man, maybe he was a ghost sent down to rescue her. At this point nothing would surprise her. She turned back to the door, fishing her key out of her purse. Once it was in the lock, the door flew open revealing darkness. All she had time for was a squeak before she was abruptly pulled in the house by her shirt. The door slammed shut and locked behind her with a clank of sliding metal.
CHAPTER 3 The intruder threw Emily across the room, her body slid into the wall. She curled in on herself, waiting for the next onslaught of pain. She was near the entrance to the kitchen, close to the knives. She didn’t know if she could get to them in time, but she had to try. She up onto her hands and knees, as the overhead light of the living room came on and moved towards the kitchen. Impulsively, she turned her head towards movement out of the corner of her eye.
Emily saw her father and let out a sigh, "Dad!" Sam, her father stood across the room from her. It was a relief that it wasn't a mass murderer or her savior gone bad. She thought it strange that he had parked in the garage and snuck up on her. Her good natured feeling was replaced, when she recognized her father's cold expression that she recognized all too well. His eyes were glassy, his graying hair tousled and his red, flannel shirt was open, revealing his stained white undershirt. His average sized body swayed slightly, as she watched him, causing her anxiety to return with each sway.
“What do you think you were doing?” He might have spoken a simple question, though it shot out at Emily execution style.
What was she supposed to say? Oh gee, I was attacked and the guy bit me. Don’t worry, just in the nick of time some hot stranger made the bad guy disappear. He probably killed him, then after walking me home, he disappeared. So, how was your day? No, that probably wasn't a good plan. Besides, she would sound completely delusional and he already thought everything out of her mouth was a lie anyway. Not to mention, she still couldn’t recall the events perfectly. It seemed that the more time passed, the less she could remember.
Emily gulped. “Sorry , dad. I got held up at the store with inventory…”
Sam closed the distance between them in four wobbly strides. “Don’t lie to me girl!” He hauled her to her feet and slapped her face. The blow was so hard that she almost lost her balance. “Your hair’s a mess and your clothes arewrinkled.” Spittle flew towards her between words. Emily tried not to outwardly cringe.
“I’m not,I swear.” Emily squeaked fighting back tears because they would show a weakness that she knew he hated more than anything.
“Damn it Emily!” He struck her with the back of his hand.
Emily fell to the floor, hitting her head on the old, ratty couch and stayed where she landed. It was a fairly, old piece of solid wood furniture. A blast of pain shot through her head at impact. It wasn’t hard enough for a concussion, which was something. Knowing it wasn't wise for her to respond, Emily remained quiet. Her face felt hot and painful where he had struck her. She watched him, pressing her hand to her cheek and willing the pain to dull.
“I’ve been watching for you. Figured I’d find out you were up to God knows what. So, I set myself up at the window. Sure enough, you come strolling up with a deadbeat.” Sam didn’t slur very much when he was drunk, but his hand gestures were all over the place. He talked with his hands when he was sober and after drinking the movements became more erratic. He was quieter now but she knew better than to test her luck.
“Dad, there was a weird guy lurking around the alley. So, a nice man offered to walk me home. I’ve never met him before-"
He interrupted, “LIES! The worst thing is that you were with one of… them.” The words were colored with so much distain and disgust that it made her flinch, expecting another blow. “I don’t ever want to see you with that thing again. Do I make myself clear?” He didn’t give her a chance to answer before he continued. “Go to bed. I was going to surprise you, I ate at the tavern. You’re off duty tonight.” His words came out in a furious slur that was hard to focus on.
Saying nothing, Emily gave him a defeated nod and collected herself off the hardwood floor. There was no point in trying to talk sense into him when he was drunk. She hurried passed him and down the hall to her room.
The family pictures that lined the wall on either side of her were no longer a comfort. They hadn’t been for a long time. Instead, they were was a constant reminder that her “happy, little family” was gone and never coming back. The year her mom died, they had taken a family photo at the lake. To look at her dad in that picture in contrast to the way he looked now was alarming. If someone hadn’t known him back then, they probably wouldn’t have even believed it was him.
Once Emily was in her room with the door c
losed and locked, a mild feeling of comfort spread through her. Things could have been worse, Sam could have forced her to stay out there with him. That would have been a fate far more tragic then what she had already endured. This night royally sucked. Emily couldn’t imagine what else could possibly have gone wrong.
She would have to wait to shower until after he went to sleep. Well, passed out would be the more operative word for the situation. Emily started for the dresser, where her bright orange iPod was charging and quickly changed her mind. Any other time she was upset, she would use the iPod as a distraction. The blaring music was a wonderful way of drowning out all the negative thoughts in her head. Sometimes she would even sing along, but not tonight. She had too much to think about. Emily had to remember exactly what happened. She knew she couldn’t go to the police,they’d commit her for sure. Besides that, she promised she wouldn’t.
She went to her bed, sat down and curled her sore legs up, hugging her knees. The pains that gripped her muscles were pure agony, making her eyes sting fiercely with unshed tears. With all the chaos tonight,she hadn’t had much chance to take inventory of the damage. The muscles in her legs screamed in protest, as she felt her knees and calves. She rolled her shoulders and arched her back. Immediately, she winced as she felt what had to be a bruise forming between her shoulder blades. Judging by the amount of pain, it was a very large bruise or perhaps several. She raised her hand to the sting on her left cheek. It was scraped from the gravel in the alley or maybe from her dad’s "affections" earlier. Either option was possible.
Emily stopped her examination to lay down on her side, drawing her legs into a fetal position. She moved slowly, it hurt too badly to straighten them. She let her eyes close and her mind drift back to the events of the evening. Her memory was fuzzy, but the fear was there behind her lids.
She knew she had been pushed down, though she couldn’t remember where. Someone attacked her, but that other guy had stopped it. While he seemed nice,she couldn’t get a clear picture of what he looked like. The details were out of focus and dark around the edges. Did the good guy kill the bad one? She couldn’t remember. If he did,the body couldn’t have just disappeared. Was she blocking out that part along with the others? Also, after she got to her door, how did that guy leave so fast? Her mind flashed from one image to the next. It was trying to decipher any code her memories might give her.
Then there was her dad’s odd reaction to her protector. It was more than a dad being worried about his daughter getting a boyfriend. Emily was sure of that. Her dad had a habit of raging when he was belligerently drunk, but that was something else. In her mind’s eye, she could see his face right after he turned the light on. His eyes were narrowed into slits and his leathery skin was tight against his set jaw. Despite the anger, was that a hint of fear in his eyes? What could make him so afraid that he morphed it into outrage, so strong that he would look at her with such hatred? He acted as though she had betrayed him. He had already eaten at the bar, so she knew this had nothing to do with dinner not being ready.
She used the sleeve of her shirt to wipe the tears, running down her face, streaking her cheeks. Pain flashed again, she touched her face and clenched her teeth to fight against it.
The entire situation was weird, but there was no time to feel sorry for herself. She had to figure everything out one way or another. Luckily, all of her problems would be waiting for her after she got some rest. That was a prospect she wasn’t looking forward to in the least.
It had probably been enough time; Sam should be deep into his drunken coma, making it safe to venture to the shower. Emily got up, cracked her door, and listened intently for Sam's chainsaw snoring. The drunker he became the worse he snored. Sure enough, it only took a second to hear the deep sounds of his nights end, billowing down the hall to where she stood.
She hurried back to her dresser to grab clean clothes. The bottom drawer was filled with the pajamas her mother had bought for her. Sorting through them, Emily opted for a deep purple shorts and camisole set in a soft, satin material. They were comfy and after everything that had happened, she could use a little comfort.
After that, she tiptoed to the hall closet, retrieved a towel and was off to the privacy of the bathroom. There she could relax and ease the pain indented deep within her bones. The thought of the hot water and steam was enticing, but the feel of the linoleum under her bare feet was shockingly cold.
The mirror above the sink frightened Emily. It showed the reflection of a girl who hadn't slept in days. Dark circles curled under her eyes, she was pale and her hair was ratty and dirty. She did see one plus, the scrape along her cheek didn’t look bad enough to leave a scar. In fact, it looked more irritated than anything else. She hoped that meant it would heal quickly.
The hot water was a Godsend and it didn’t take long for all of her muscles to unwind. She was still sore but it was understandable, after what she had been through.
She couldn’t get the picture of the man who protected her out of her mind. There was something about him that in the short time she knew him, she knew he was unlike anyone else in this god forsaken town. He was mysterious, strong and gentle with a warm presence. He wouldn’t give her straight answers, which proved he had something to hide. Realistically she couldn’t hold that against him. Everyone had bones rattling in their closets. Emily knew that better than anyone else. The hinges had been blown off all the closet doors in her house on more than one occasion. Regardless of what he was hiding, his actions tonight had shown he was a good guy. The memory of his face made Emily's heart thud and her stomach flutter with butterflies.
Her abdomen suddenly growled, demanding refueling. Crap, she hadn’t eaten all day. Between work and everything else food had slipped her mind. Sam probably wouldn’t have let her in the kitchen, even if she had thought about it. It was clear that her bedroom would be her only sanctuary for the night.
If Emily was careful, she could grab a bagel after her shower. It shouldn’t wake her dad from his slumber on the springy, uncomfortable couch. It never used to be so dilapidated, but sleeping on it religiously for the past five years had worn it down. She wondered if it was too hard for him to sleep in the bed, he once shared with her mom. He would never admit it, viewing it as a show of weakness. Emily’s mother, Melissa had told her that the ability to show weakness gives the ability to embrace strength.
After Melissa died, Emily's dad's drinking got worse. He had always been a drinker,but it didn’t become a form of self- medication until that horrible night.
Sam had always been a brick wall when it came to Emily. He regretted that she wasn't a boy her entire life. He loved her, he just didn't say or show itlike some “daddies" did.
He was different with her mother. Melissa had a way of keeping him in check. He might not have showered her with flowers, candy and romance, but it was evident to all that she was his main purpose.
Emily noticed that his drinking had become increasingly worse in the last few weeks. She wondered why, but knew she would likely never know. He’s not exactly an open book. He was closer to a locked diary that never had a key to start with. Living in the Jameson house taught Emily to keep her mouth shut and to herself. She wished things were different, yet knew there wasn’t anything she could do about it. She resigned herself to learning how to deal by counting down the days, until she could leave for school.
The shower had been blissful, but the water had begun to turn cold, bringing Emily to turn it off. She rushed to get dressed, because her stomach had gone from a slight growl, to full fledge conversations.
She sneaked into the kitchen in stealth mode, to avoid disturbingthe grizzly’s hibernation. Emily had done this so many times that she had the activity down to an art. Once in front of the fridge, she propped open the door with her hip and pushed the button for the light with her left hand. With her other hand, she removed the lid from the gallon of milk and began guzzling.
The milk did wonders for her scratchy throat. The
feel of it traveling into her empty stomach was amazing. Hey, maybe milk really did do a body good, she thought picturing the "Got Milk” commercials. Her hand weakly shook under the weight of the jug until returning it to the shelf. Okay, so it may do a body good but she needed to start lifting weights or something. The minuscule weight of a milk jug shouldn’t make her arms shake. No doubt the nights events hadn’t done much for her muscle stamina or endurance. That had to be it, because she knew she was stronger than that.
There weren’t a whole lot of options for food. A trip to the grocery store would have to be carried out soon. Lord knew Sam wouldn’t do it, therefore it was left to Emily. The only store he ever entered was the liquor store. She went to the counter, grabbed a bagel and headed back to her room, pleased with her OO7 sneaking skills.
Man, she hadn’t completely realized how starving she was, until she closed her bedroom door and stuffed the last bite in her mouth. Maybe she should have gotten two? Oh well, she was too tired to care.
The bed seemed to beckon to her, calling her name in sweet purring whispers. She responded obediently, crawling into her comfy full size bed and pulling the covers around her neck. The old comforter was black with orange poke-a-dots. She even had orange curtains to match with black sheers underneath.
As she nestled in, she willed herself not to think about the day’s drama, making a silent promise to herself. She desperately needed sleep and her problems could be dealt with tomorrow. It would be the only way sleep would take over. Her selfproclaimed promise was broken, but it stilldidn’t take long for her lids to droop and she willingly gave in to her exhaustion.
CHAPTER 4 The next morning, Emily woke before her alarm went off, feeling refreshed. The first thing she noticed was that her pillowcase was stiff from drool. That’s weird, she never drooled, what was that about? No time to worry about that since she had to get to work.
