Chapter 47 – Emerson
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
EMERSON
“Stop crying, Emmy.” He’s irritated and keeps looking at the clock on the wall, but he won’t look at me.
“I want Mommy.” My hands shake, and my body hurts, and I’m scared and just want my mommy.
“Knock it off. You’re fine. Stop crying and get back in bed.”
“You hurt me.” I stare at him and watch that funny bump on the side of his jaw get hard as he bites his teeth together.
“No, I didn’t.”
My heart feels like it’s in my throat again. The same way it did before I threw up and wet myself. I tell myself not to do it again. I think of the bath he put me in after. The warm water. The weird way he used the washcloth to clean my privates instead of letting me use it myself.
I feel like I can’t breathe. “Yes, you did. Mommy would put you in so much trouble for what you did.”
“No. You are the one who is in trouble. I don’t think you want me to tell your mom about the phone call I got from Mrs. Gellar today about how you keep acting up in class. You know how much she hates when you act up.”
“Mrs. Gellar called?”
“Mm-hmm. You and Grant weren’t listening again. Do I need to ground you from seeing him anymore? Is he becoming a bad influence?”
Panic hits me. No Grant? He’s my only friend. And . . . I don’t understand, I didn’t get in trouble today. I was good. I’m always good. “Dad, I didn’t get in trouble today at school,” I barely whisper.
“And I didn’t hurt you tonight, now did I?”
“But you?—”
“You were dreaming, Emmy.” He looks at me for the first time, and his eyes look black to me. Black like the ghost in the Halloween book that Grant let me read that gave me nightmares last week.
Was I dreaming?
“I don’t think I?—”
“You were screaming. You had a nightmare. You were fighting against me when I woke you because I was holding you to calm you down. Then you peed the bed like a baby. Again.”
I blink my eyes and know what he’s saying isn’t true, but I can’t remember it all. I can’t remember . . .
“You fell asleep on the couch while I was watching television. I should have put you in bed, but I thought you were sleeping, so I didn’t . . . the nightmare you described was the exact same as on the show. You must have heard it when you were asleep, and then turned it into a dream.” His voice is getting angry like it does when I don’t do what I’m supposed to do.
I shake my head. I fell asleep in my bed. With my Strawberry Shortcake doll under my arm and my rainbow nightlight on the ceiling above me. I never get to fall asleep on the couch.
But my blanket is there. Next to him. Did I bring it out here?
“Mom would be so mad at me if she knew I watched that show with you when you were supposed to be in bed. She’s going to be home any minute, and you know how mad she gets when you stay up late on a school night. Do you want me to bring you back to bed?”
“No.” I can barely say the word. I don’t want him in my room.
“Okay. Come give me a kiss.”
I stare at him, my feet feeling like they weigh more than an elephant’s. He reaches out and pulls me into him and presses his lips against mine. My tummy feels like it’s going to be sick. The feel of his whiskers reminding me of earlier.
Not a dream.
“’Night, sweetheart. Do you love me, Emmy?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Say it.”
“I love you.”
“How much?”
“With all my heart.”
His smile makes me feel like ants are crawling on me. “Get to bed, now.”
I hurry to my bedroom upstairs and shut the door. Then I open it because the darkness brings monsters.
But the monster is downstairs...
I struggle for air as I lie in bed and pull the covers tighter around me. The strange surroundings of the hotel room I’m in only add to my discombobulation.
I replay as much of the dream as I can in my head, and one thing stands out above all the rest.
With all my heart.
How could I tell a person who just molested me that I love him?
How could I spend years of my life cutting my arms to deal with the pain a man who was supposed to love me unconditionally caused me?
It all comes back to trust.
The Reeve girls.
I think back to how, while we were on the road, my mom didn’t trust anyone. If someone showed the slightest interest in me—even in the most benign of ways—we moved on to the next city. To the next adventure. To the next place where no one would notice us for a while.
It all comes down to trust.
She didn’t trust anyone with me.
And now? Now I don’t even trust myself.