“Head to bed, baby,” Celeste McCreedy called from where she stood. The porch light framed her golden hair and bright blue eyes, a subtle sadness always present. Both Emery and Ashley had their mother’s coloring, their hair like a golden halo of waves cascading down their backs.
Making her way back to the porch, she looked over her shoulder longingly at where she’d been able to escape, even if it was just for a few minutes. “Okay, Mom.”
It was after eleven and time for her to go to sleep, but the dread that buzzed through her arms and legs urged her not to go to her room. She would be safer here, watching people clean up the mess of her birthday party. All she wanted to do was stay up for the rest of her life. If she stayed on the couch watching The Vampire Diaries, she would be safe. Maybe if she was a vampire, she could stay up forever. If she was a vampire, she wouldn’t be touched.
Alas, that wasn’t realistic.
“Thank you,” her mother sang out and placed her hand on Emery’s shoulder.
“I love you, Mom. Thank you for the party,” Emery said politely, moving away. She couldn’t help the sadness that seeped into her words.
“I love you more.” Her mother winked. “And you’re welcome. I think it was lovely. The castle was the main event, huh? Even if I rented it for Ashley’s friends.” She looked toward the table where her wine had been. “Where’s my wine?” She swiveled to take stock of the entire back porch. “I swear I put it right there,” she muttered under her breath. “Brandi, bring me another glass of wine!” she called to one of the servers.
Emery smirked and walked slowly into the quiet house. The silence unnerved her. She made her way up the stairs and passed her sister’s room. Emery opened the door to see her sister peacefully sleeping on her four poster bed, draped in pink covers. Emery prayed, even though she was pretty sure she didn’t believe in God. She asked him to keep Ashley this way, perfect and innocent, to protect her from Emery’s fate. Then she went to her room and stripped off her clothes, leaving them in a pile on her spotless floor, and pulled on a t-shirt, leaving herself bare from the waist down. She fell into bed, hoping to fall asleep quickly.
The bed depressed with a creaking noise that shattered the silence of her room. She woke instantly. Please, no. She willed herself to go back to sleep, to escape what was coming. Instead, she felt rough fingers in her, probing inside her in a way that was both familiar and revolting. She swallowed the bile that threatened to come up. She’d thrown up once and he’d made her regret it. His breath was hot on her neck. It made her skin crawl and she, again, tried not to vomit. Once she heard the familiar rip of the foil packet, her mind left her body and drifted to the window. She looked at the serene blue of her walls, the chevron pattern of her comforter. Then she stared outside at the hazy stars that came in and out of focus. She’d trained herself not to think. Not to hurt. Not to feel.
His hair grazed her neck. Pinpricks of terror spread throughout her body as her mind was sucked back into her brain. Emery bit her forearm to quiet her hidden scream. The skin broke at the force of her bite, but the pain was a welcome substitute for what he was doing to her. He repeatedly tore her apart from the inside out.
After four minutes and twenty-seven seconds, Phil grunted and released himself in her. Happy Birthday.
Her eyes were squeezed together so hard she felt like she may never be able to open them again. The mattress raised as his weight lifted from the bed. Her sheets were the perfect complement to the comforter; a smaller pattern that mimicked the bigger one. Blue, then yellow, then gray, repeated over and over.
“Don’t forget what happens if you open your mouth.” He closed the door quietly.
She focused on breathing and the zigzag of the lines on her sheets. There were fourteen blue points and thirteen yellow and she kept counting them until they blurred. Her mouth felt like a soiled wash rag. As she closed her eyes, she welcomed the feeling of falling into an abyss. Sometimes she just wanted to stop breathing, like things would be better if she just closed her eyes forever.
CHAPTER TWO
Click, Click, Boom
The next morning, she soundlessly crept down the stairs when she heard her mother stirring in the kitchen. She heard Phil’s deep baritone and tried to disappear into herself. She needed to get high so that she could block out his voice, his smell, and the feeling of his five o’clock shadow on her back and neck.
“Headed to the mall,” she called toward the kitchen, not even waiting for a response before she slammed the front door.
Going to church with her family was something she refused to do. She couldn’t take the irony of Phil sitting in a pew like an upstanding citizen. Emery had so many questions when it came to God that she didn’t even know where to start. How could these things happen? How could Phil even enter a church without burning to a crisp from his sin? How could her father, who was the best dad, be dead and this guy be allowed to live?