Razorblade Kisses(101)

Meme came around and put a hand on her shoulder. “Emma, I think we should go,” she said softly.

Emery looked up and saw Trina coming out of the house in handcuffs. Tim had his hand on her elbow, leading her toward his cruiser, and it was like the cord that had been barely holding her together snapped.

No! Lucas was the only person left who could save her. She’d lost everyone. Her life stopped here. She would leave everything here.

Emery pushed herself up and rushed to Trina, ramming her shoulder into her at full speed. Trina was screaming and floundering on the ground. She’d knocked Tim down too. Emery was straddling Trina and she began pummeling Trina’s face, ribs, and stomach. Emery heard nothing. She didn’t hear Meme yelling. She didn’t hear Tim calling her name. She just kept hitting Trina. Blood was on her hand and splattered on her face. Then she felt herself being pulled. Pulled away from Trina and her fucked up selfish bullshit. Tugged from the reality of what she saw. Jerked from this half-ass life she’d tried to make for herself in Savannah. In the moment she was uprooted from beating Trina’s ass, she realized everything she’d ever done was a lie. Her life was a fucking lie.

“Emma.” Tim was breathing into her ear. “Breathe, baby, just breathe.”

She was done breathing, but she was still screaming. Lucas was gone, they were taking him away and she, the liar, the asshole, the nothing was still here.

He’d made her better for a short time. She couldn’t be better.

She felt a prick in her arm and everything turned black.





CHAPTER FIFTY

No Fight Left



She blinked rapidly as the grimy room came into focus. Inhaling deeply, the pungent smell of antiseptic filled her nose. She tried to ease into her new reality; the only people that she’d stayed around for were dead. Dead and gone. Why was she still here? Emery closed her eyes for a few seconds, hoping that this was just a drunken nightmare. Oh shit, I’m going to be sick.

Her eyes flew open. She was in an empty hospital room. Emery dry heaved into a plastic dish she found sitting on the tray next to her bed. Tears fell from her eyes; she wiped them away with the back of her hand. There were beeps and voices outside her room. Panic began circling her, surrounding her and closing in around her. She had to get out of here.

She put her feet on the floor and stood up slowly, then walked the few steps to the chair where her clothes were neatly folded. On top of her clothes was the bracelet Rachel bought her. It taunted her. Her purse and shoes were sitting on the floor in front of the chair. A Trenta size Starbucks coffee cup sat next to her shoes. She only knew one person who drank a coffee that size. She wondered if Rachel was still in the hospital. Her phone told her it was 5:00 am and that she’d missed a million calls from Rachel. She texted Rachel quickly.

Headed back to the apartment

She threw her arms and legs into her clothes and shoved her feet into her rain boots. She shoved the bracelet into her jeans pocket, not able to bring herself to put it on. Pulling her wool cap down to her eyes, she peered out of the door, thankful she didn’t see anyone in the hallway.

She hurried to the stairs and took the three flights down to the lobby slowly, then speed walked out the front door to where the lone cab driver sat waiting just to the left of the entrance. Her heart was beating so fast she thought it may burst out of her chest. She gave the cabbie her address and leaned back as she watched the sun peek up over the water. She texted Rachel again.

Thanks for bringing my purse.

“Thank you,” Emery said and handed the cab driver her money out of her bag that Rachel had somehow brought to the hospital and slid out of the back seat. She had no recollection of anything other than Lucas was dead. Ashley was dead. She hadn’t been able to help anyone.

She took a deep breath and took out her key, unlocking the door and trudging up the stairs. Her door was slightly ajar, but that didn’t surprise her since she’d left drunk out of her mind, but then she saw Rachel standing in her den. She was holding two books in her hands, her hair pulled up in a messy bun. Derrick was sitting on the couch on the phone.

“What are you doing?” Emery asked still standing at the entrance of her apartment.

“Emery, things are a little…” Rachel looked to Derrick for help. “Complicated. We came as soon as we heard.”

“How did you hear?” Emery asked.

“It was on the news. You can’t beat the shit out of a mom at a crime scene where there are TV cameras and think that won’t get picked up,” Rachel chastised.

“I don’t give a fuck,” Emery barked and walked into her room. She was so done with everything.