Emery allowed herself to absorb the sun as she made her way to her brand new BMW. How can the day be so pretty when her life was so revolting?
As she opened her car door, the front door opened and he walked out in his navy suit and yellow tie. Emery couldn’t keep the disgust off her normally poised face.
“You know, I didn’t buy you a car so you could just leave whenever you wanted.” His low voice floated across the yard and landed on her chest.
She looked down at the car and then back at him.
“You will ask me for permission to go anywhere that isn’t to school from now on,” he said and began to walk toward her car.
The escape she desperately needed was turning into a trap and slipping through her fingers. “I-I…” she stuttered. Emery never talked to him. She could count on her hands the times she’d actually spoken to him.
“Emery, if you use this car in a way I don’t approve of, I will make you understand what the parameters are in a manner that you can understand.” He lifted his fingers to his nose and smelled them.
Her stomach fell.
“And,” he licked his finger, “if that doesn’t work, we can always include your sister in the lesson.”
Emery stumbled away from him and fell into her car, cranking it and reversing out of the driveway as fast as she safely could. She was looking at him as her mother came out the front door wearing a white Chanel dress, Ashley trailing her looking like a carbon copy. Phil waved his fingers at Emery as she sped down the street in an attempt to forget their exchange.
She unconsciously pulled on the cuff of the long-sleeved shirt she was wearing as she turned onto Ashford-Dunwoody Road. She lived her life in a haze, not really looking at anything and not feeling emotion. It was getting harder to be in her house, though. After three years it felt like a prison to which she was banished for life.
Squinting at the sun, Emery pulled her Braves baseball cap down over her blond hair and delicate features. She slid on sunglasses that hid most of her face for the rest of the drive to Perimeter Mall.
Emery was hitting up her dealer. Chandler Drew was a kid from her neighborhood she’d known her entire life. He probably knew more about her than anyone else, and that was only that she smoked a lot of weed.
Usually she could close her eyes and count to thirty-seven and her emotions disappeared; her life evaporated like a magic trick she’d taught herself. Last night was still fresh and her body was sore. In the last three years, she’d realized she’d need something to help her through the memories, the ache and the fear she felt every second of her life. She was scared of Phil on many different levels. She was afraid she would give something away and her sister would pay the price. There was a trickle of fear that her mother would find out and he’d make her pick him or that her mother wouldn’t believe her. She had an irrational belief he would kill her one day. There were times that weren’t necessarily scary, but a welcome relief from what he was doing. There were so many layers of her terror that it seemed almost surreal to her. There were tiny moments when she saw the look in Phil’s eyes—when she could even meet his eyes—and her hair would stand on end, her mouth would feel suddenly full of cotton, and she thought her heart would explode with the horror of her life.
Emery was taking the abuse, but it was something she could live with as long as Ashley was safe. She was absolutely terrified she’d miss the opportunity out of this tenuous situation for her and her sister.
Emery sighed in relief when she pulled into a parking spot near Nordstrom. She would have just a little escape, even if it was only in her mind. As she weaved through the store, Emery took in the high end clothes and let her mind wander to what she would look like in some of them. That blue top was kind of cute…and those jeans… She quickly shook off the notion. Letting her mother pick all of her clothes was just easier. Years ago, when Emery had made it clear she wasn’t interested, her mother stopped asking her to go shopping. Her mother stopped buying her clothes without long sleeves around the age of fourteen.
No, she wasn’t shopping for clothes today. She needed to numb herself.
As she exited Nordstrom and walked into the mall itself, she scanned the couches looking for Chandler. Chandler normally sat on a couch outside the store; if he had a book and was reading, you could buy. If his book was on the couch or his lap, you should come back.
He was reading. My lucky day. Quickly, she walked over to the couch and crossed her legs. She put two fingers down on the couch, symbolizing she wanted two bags. “Hey, Chandler. How’s it going?” She made polite conversation at the same time and took in the people walking past them. They all had smiles and were laughing and chatting with one another. She couldn’t remember the last time she genuinely smiled; she was sure it had something to do with Ashley.