by Quinn Loftis
She climbed out of bed, already dressed with even her shoes on. It was a Darla request and so she honored it. Emma pulled her long hair over her shoulder and re-braided it the way her mama had taught her and then headed for her bedroom door. As always, she stopped and listened before she opened it. The house was quiet, which meant Aunt Mildred was still asleep or gone. She hoped it was the latter. When she opened the door and stepped out into the hall, she was greeted with a nod from Raphael who was standing guard, as usual, between her room and the living room. She had to wonder if he got bored standing in the hall all night. She had asked him once if he ever got tired, and he had informed her in his flat, no nonsense way that angels did not require sleep.
Emma made her way to the bathroom to take care of her morning business and then headed back to her room. Raphael followed her in and she saw that Dair had appeared as well.
“Mildred left this morning, but she will be back very soon. We should probably leave before she returns. I saw that she had a list of grocery items in her hand,” Raphael told them.
“She was going to the grocery store?” Emma frowned. “That’s new.” Emma had never actually seen her aunt bring home groceries that she had bought herself. Usually the way her aunt acquired food was as a form of payment for the ‘goods’ that she sold out of her home. Emma figured accepting groceries for payment was much easier for her aunt than actually having to get out and go do something that might require the slightest bit of energy. “Why are you worried about us being gone before she gets back?” Emma asked the angel. Mildred had never tried to stop her from leaving before.
“She was muttering something about putting you to work to pay for your stay.”
Emma could tell that Raphael didn’t like having to tell her, but it didn’t hurt Emma’s feelings. Why should she be hurt over a woman who she didn’t really know, nor did she care for? For her, living with her aunt was simply a season of her life that would pass. She wouldn’t always be a child and she would not always need the room Mildred begrudgingly provided. One day Emma would be able to care for herself, and then she could put the time she spent with her aunt behind her.
They left the house quickly with both Dair and Raphael keeping a wary eye out for her aunt’s beat-up old, what use to be, blue station wagon. They walked more quickly than usual and Emma found herself having to pay close attention to the slippery sidewalk and roads. She found herself wondering what things Darla had planned for the day. Even though she dearly loved her time with Darla, she was hoping Serenity would be by to take her to the vet so she could be around the animals. Regardless of what the day held, she knew that as long as she was away from her aunt, it would be a good one.
As they entered the library, the familiar smell of books hit Emma and she found herself smiling. This place had truly become her home. Darla and the other staff always welcomed her with open arms and they never treated Raphael differently, despite his huge size and somewhat intimidating demeanor.
“I am so glad you are here.” Darla’s voice carried from the small office that was to the right of the checkout desk. She came rushing out in her usual exuberant manner, smiling as if Emma and the two guardians with her had hung the moon. “Hello Dair, Raphael.” She nodded to them and then wrapped Emma in her usual hug.
“Darla,” Raphael’s voice rumbled.
Dair simply nodded in return.
“How are you doing this fine Christmas Eve morning?” Darla asked her.
“I actually didn’t even realize that today was Christmas Eve. It’s hard to believe that I’ve been here for over two weeks already.”
“Time does fly when you’re having fun,” Darla sighed.
“So why are you so glad we’re here?” Emma asked.
“Oh, right.” Darla clapped her hands together and then rubbed them as if warming them. Darla was about to say something more but was interrupted by screeching tires in the parking lot. They all turned to look out the window and see what the commotion was. Emma’s stomach dropped to her toes when she saw her aunt’s car parked right outside the front door of the library.
“Emma, go to the back please,” Darla said, her voice suddenly taking on a tone that Emma had never heard before.
Emma shook her head. “I’m sorry ma’am, but I can’t do that. I can’t leave y’all here to face my problem.”
The door flew open with a resounding snap as it struck the wall behind it. Mildred Jones stormed in, looking wild-eyed and as crazy as Emma had ever seen her. Emma swore if she had been a dog she would have been foaming at the mouth.
“Mildred, you cannot park your car in front of the door; it’s a fire hazard,” Darla told her calmly.
Raphael and Dair had stepped closer to Emma forming a protective barrier around her. She knew that they wanted to protect her from her aunt, but there wasn’t anything they could do. Mildred was her legal guardian and had never really done her any harm. She didn’t see any way for them to help her, at least not right then.
“I ain’t staying. I come to pick up my ward. I didn’t give her no permission to leave the house, and yet I sees her walking down the street, with two men no less.” Her gaze shifted to Emma and her glazed-over eyes narrowed. “How you think it looks, girl, for you to be walking around with men old enough to be your father? I ain’t raisin no whore.”
Emma was surprised that Mildred remembered seeing them considering Raphael’s ability to sway minds, and she wondered if it had anything to do with all the drug use and alcohol. Maybe her mind was just too gone to be able to be influenced like others.
“ENOUGH,” Dair’s voice rumbled over Mildred’s. And pulling Emma from her thoughts about her aunt. “You will not call the child such vulgar names or you will face my wrath.
“And who’s you be for me to care? That brat is mine. She livin’ in my home, eatin’ my food, sleepin’ in the bed I be providing, and she’s goin to start earning her keep. Now, come on, girl, ya hear? I have people coming for dinner and I won’t be letting them go hungry.”
Emma stepped forward to follow her aunt but Darla gently took her arm. “You don’t need to go with her, Emma. She’s been drinking and is probably high as a kite as well.”
Emma looked up into the worried eyes of the woman who she’d come to think of as her real aunt and smiled gently. “I’ll be okay, Darla. I’m not a victim and I’m tough. If I don’t go with her now, I have a feeling it will be worse for me later on.” Emma could tell that it took everything in Darla for her to release her and let her walk out of the library. She didn’t want to disappoint her, but she knew that her aunt would take her anger out on Emma if she didn’t just do what she wanted. Cooking dinner for her aunt and her low life friends wouldn’t be that bad as long as Emma could lock herself in her room before they all arrived.
Even though she heard Darla tell Raphael to make sure she made it home in one piece, Emma didn’t look back as she climbed into the back seat of her aunt’s car. She didn’t want to see the worry in their faces. Instead, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes and thought of happier times. Emma drew on her memories of past Christmases with her parents. If her mama and daddy were still alive they would be in the kitchen with the Christmas music turned up loud while they cooked Christmas dinner. Her mama would let her help make the dressing and baste the turkey, and she would even let her eat some of the cookie dough from the sugar cookies they made every year. The whole house would smell of good food and be full of laughter and music. They weren’t the perfect family, but her parents worked hard to make the holidays special. He mama always used to tell her, Emma, memories are important and making good ones can sometimes be the difference between simply surviving through difficult situations or thriving. As she sat in the back of that car, with stale cigarette smoke swirling around her, Emma realized exactly what her mama had been talking about.
Two hours later, Emma stood in the kitchen in Mildred’s house admiring the ‘feast’ she’d prepared. The preparation had consisted mostly of simply
heating things up because her aunt had only bought stuff that needed to be tossed in a pan and warmed or thrown into the microwave. Green beans, mashed potatoes, as well as macaroni and cheese were all microwavable. The turkey she bought was already cooked and simply had to be heated up in the stove. The dressing was Stove Top from a box. None of it was difficult for the girl to manage. She simply followed the directions on the backs of the containers. Her aunt had left her alone for the most part, only coming in a few times to gripe and complain about Emma thinking she could come and go as she pleased. Emma simply ignored her and listened to the Christmas music she had playing in her head.
Once the table was set and all the food was laid out, Emma started to slip off to her room. But her aunt grabbed her arm and turned Emma to face her.
“Where do you think yer going?”
“I figured you would want me out of the way so that you and your guests could have a nice time,” Emma told her. She fought the urge to pull her arm out of the tight grasp. Her parents had never handled her so roughly. Oh, she had been spanked on occasion but never had her mama smacked her or hit her out of anger.
“I wants you out here where I can be keeping an eye on you. You can serve us and make yourself useful.”
Emma didn’t like the sound of that. “Are you sure? I’m terribly clumsy at times.” She was fibbing but she figured it was allowed if she was attempting to protect herself. Emma had a feeling being around the type of men her aunt entertained would not be in her best interest.
“Well, you better not spill anything on my guests or you’ll be punished. Didn’t my dear sister teach you bout sparing the rod n spoilin the child?”
Emma nearly snorted out a laugh. The idea of that woman spouting out Bible verses was about as ridiculous as a politician swearing on the Bible that he would be honest and put the people’s best interest first. Truly it was laughable. But Emma swallowed it down and simply nodded at her aunt.
One by one, Mildred’s friends began to arrive and with each new person the leering looks and snide comments increased. Emma couldn’t bring herself to appear meek or afraid. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of thinking they were getting to her. Instead, she met their gazes head on with a challenging one of her own. Her mama and daddy hadn’t raised a coward, and she would not lower herself in front of the likes of those people.
“She’s a pretty little thing, Milly,” one particularly shifty man said as he licked his fingers after having ripped his piece of turkey apart. Emma stood in the kitchen waiting for her aunt’s orders. Every so often her aunt would yell, ‘fill that glass, girl’ or ‘get us more food, you ingrate’. Emma bit her tongue over and over to keep from saying things that would only cause a flare in her aunt’s temper. She endured the looks from the men and the snide comments from the women. The final straw was when a man her aunt called Rat reached out and ran a finger down her cheek as she refilled his glass. Nobody would touch Emma without her permission. Her mama had always told her that her body belonged to herself, and no one had the right to touch it in any way.
Emma couldn’t stop her hand from flying up and slapping the disgusting appendage away from her face. Her eyes narrowed on the man called Rat, and she gritted her teeth as she spoke. “Didn’t your mama teach you any manners? I do not want you to touch me; please don’t.” Only her mama’s insistent reminders to be respectful had Emma saying please, though she knew this man did not deserve her respect.
“She’s a feisty one, Mildred,” Rat laughed as he continued to watch her. “You should sell her; she’d bring a pretty penny.”
“Sell her,” Mildred snapped. “She ain’t but. . .” She paused and looked over at Emma. “How old are you, girl?”
Emma straightened her shoulders as she stepped back away from the table. “I’m eight years old.”
“See, she’s only eight. What would I be selling her for?”
Rat’s eyes lingered much too long on Emma, causing her stomach to roll. “She’s only a few years away from breeding age; until then she could be put to work in a man’s house cooking and cleaning.”
“Why can’t she just be kept in my house to cook and clean? She’s my kin,” Mildred said as she smacked her food.
“She needs to be trained by a man if she’s to be a proper slave.”
Emma was pretty sure she was going to vomit all over the floor if she had to listen to any more of Rat’s disgusting talk of selling her and making her a slave to a man. Emma wasn’t stupid; she knew exactly what kind of slave he was talking about. She would run away before she let that happen. I’m not a victim, she told herself. It was her mantra as she continued to listen to the disgusting, vile people who sat around the table eating food in celebration of a holiday that they didn’t even understand. When Mildred raised her glass and hollered, ‘Merry Christmas and all that crap’, Emma wanted to stomp her foot and tell them all how disgraceful their behavior was at such a time. They were supposed to be celebrating the birth of Jesus, and instead they spoke of disgusting acts and illegal things that no eight-year-old should ever have to hear about.
As the night grew later, the group became increasingly sluggish due to the alcohol they consumed and the drugs they were openly doing in front of her. When they were all finally gathered in the living room―lying around like lazy, fat rats―she began to walk slowly backwards toward her room, keeping her eyes on them all the while. As she made her way down the hallway, her eyes roaming the group wearily she wondered where Raphael was. She couldn’t see him and so she thought maybe he was standing guard using whatever cloaking power it was that angels had. She didn’t wonder about it too long because she was simply too tired to give it any more thought.
As she closed the door behind her, she turned the lock and then pressed her back against it and slowly slid to the floor. She wasn’t a victim, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t scared. Emma knew she would be foolish to not be afraid. The people currently on the other side of her wall were shameless, morally bankrupt degenerates with no conscience; at least that’s what her mother would say. They had nothing left to lose and her daddy told her those kind of people were the most dangerous sort. She was only eight years old. She had ten years left until she would be considered an adult. How was she going to survive ten years with a woman who cared nothing for her and would do nothing to protect her from the likes of people like Rat?
Emma didn’t realize she had fallen asleep sitting there on the floor until she was startled awake by the sound of the doorknob to her room turning. She reached up to make sure the lock was turned and let out the breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding. The knob continued to jiggle and Emma heard a string of curses from a deep yet very slurred voice. She stood up but her stomach seemed to remain on the floor as she backed away slowly from the door toward the window. Her eyes darted to the bed where her coat lay and in the process noted that Raphael still wasn’t there. When the jiggling turned into the sound of a shoulder against the door, she knew she needed to get out of there.
Emma grabbed her coat and quickly shoved her arms into the sleeves. As quietly as possible she pushed the window open, though she was sure whoever was on the other side of that door could hear her panicked breathing. Thankfully, Raphael had thought ahead and already greased the old, rusted window so that it wouldn’t make any noise should she ever need to use it to make a hasty exit. Emma could feel the cold air on her face as she began to climb through the window. She didn’t flinch when she heard the door give way to another hard shove but she tried to move more quickly. She thought she was going to make, but her movement was impeded by the prickly leaves on the bushes planted right in front of her window. Her first leg was touching the ground and she had begun to lift the other when he grabbed her.
“Gotcha,” the deep voice growled. She recognized the voice—Rat.
Emma attempted to pull her leg out of his grasp but he was much too strong for her. His other hand took hold of the braid in her hair and yanked her head back. She le
t out an involuntary cry as a sharp pain radiated through her scalp. He jerked her through the window and back into the dark room. Emma’s arms flailed out in front of her, desperate to grab anything that she could use to pull herself away from her attacker. It was useless. Her arms were just too short. When he tossed her onto the bed, she looked around frantically for anything that she could use as a weapon. A hand connected with her face before she could get her arms up to block the blow. She screamed inside her mind for Raphael. He was her guardian, her self-appointed protector, and though she didn’t know why he hadn’t been there that night, she knew he would come. He had to, because if he didn’t, things much worse than being slapped across the face were going to happen.
Raphael took in a sharp breath as the desperation of Emma’s cry filled his mind. He knelt, head bowed in reverence, before the Creator which was the only reason he had not been with Emma that night. He had done as Darla asked and made sure the child arrived to her aunt’s safely, but then his Maker had called and he had to answer. Raphael had known it would be about Brudair but he had been surprised by the Creator’s questions.
“The child is in need,” the deep voice said as it radiated into his soul and covered Raphael in peace that only the Creator could give. “You have been guarding her?”
“Yes,” he answered honestly.
“Continue to do so. The purpose I have for her is great, and she will bear many burdens before she fulfills it. Go now, keep her safe, but do not interfere with her free will. Understand this Raphael, what happens tonight must happen. She will become the woman I have destined her to be partly because of her experiences.”
