I’ve put down the paint brushes and took up pen again….here is a refresher and maybe something new. I will now continue on….. (rough draft)
“Get the hell out of my house!” She yelled, voice raspy, “Get out before I break your jaw!”
Ethan took a step back as she came striding towards him, fists clenched at her side. He wasn’t about to let a little woman physically remove him from any house, let alone his own. So he stood his ground in their living room, ready to handle her temper the way he should have from the beginning of this sorry relationship. That bitch was gonna get it he thought to himself, time to show her who the boss was around here. Emmy stared coldly into the dead center of his ghostly black eyes and didn’t waiver for an instant. As she passed through the kitchen she picked up a dirty wrench among a pile of tools, swearing under her breath it’d be the last time he ever tried to fix something under this roof again.
“I ain’t jokin’ you arrogant bastard,” Emmy drawled evenly, “Get. Out.”
But he stood there, sweating in the cool, Sunday summer breeze, fueled devilishly with rage, “Go ahead, I dare you.”
Emmy reached him in an instant, lifting her chosen weapon above her shoulder, swinging it into his side with a surprising force. Ethan doubled over, recovering just in time to catch her second swing before it smashed into his ribs once more. Pulling it to him, he grabbed her wrist and twisted, until her back slammed against his chest.
“I got ya now, woman,” he said, teeth bearing against her ear, “Time for you to learn who’s boss in this house.”
Emmy pulled and yanked, but his large frame muscled her into place. She knew whatever was going to happen was going to be bad, but she didn’t care anymore. The man now shoving her toward their bedroom was nothing to her. Only a living memory of the past she kept trying to escape. Growing up in a small town was something like living in a sink hole. It sucked you in, gripping around your legs like concrete, making it nearly impossible to get out. Emmy never wanted to end up living her entire life in a fish bowl town like this, but Ethan had forced her to stay. Young love was the worst kind of love she thought, damning herself for not seeing it until now. How could you think at eighteen you would be in love forever? How could you know someone well enough to think that? How could you know yourself well enough to know that?
Emmy cringed as her head slammed against the headboard of their bed. She looked up at him wildly, frantic with fury. He smiled down at her with chilling confidence over his newly decided intentions.
“Don’t look so happy to be underneath me,” Ethan said sarcasm dripping through his pompous, upturned mouth, “it’s time to finally act like the wife you should have been for the past three years.”
She stared into his black pooled eyes once more, and through a tensed jaw spoke, “I will never be your proper housewife, you prick. I hate you, I hope you burn in hell you piece of,” Emmy broke off as a brawny fist came crashing down against the side of her face, and everything went black.
When she awoke, the sun was shining dully in through the window. It must have been early morning, telling by the grays washing the walls. She rolled slowly to her side, clamping her eyes shut, trying to rid of the migraine that poisoned her sensibilities. She brushed her fingers gingerly across the left side of her face as she moved to stretch. Emmy flew half way out of bed, suddenly recalling the horror swirling around the bedroom, her knees buckling as she tried to run out of the room, ready to fight. Instead, she fell back against the headboard wincing with pain. Looking around, Ethan was nowhere in sight, and she couldn’t hear him stomping around the house. He must have already left to work she thought sighing in relief. Her shoulders slumped and her chest felt like bricks as she inhaled and exhaled slowly, staring blankly at the wall. She looked down at herself for the first time and nearly cried at the sight. Her t-shirt was torn right down the center, bearing reddened, raw skin and her now bare legs were covered in bruises. Emmy whimpered as she lay back down on cotton sheets. Ethan would being running business errands before returning home in the late afternoon, and she‘d be gone. That was it, she was leaving today, now.
Stiff legs limped down the hall as she carried a single suitcase in her right hand. Emmy had put on her favorite pair of jeans and a fresh, white t-shirt, leaving her tattered clothes on the ground for Ethan to find. She slid aviator glasses over her sunken, blue eyes and opened the screen door. Before walking across the porch and down the stairs she looked back once more at the house. She soaked in its white washed exterior and navy trim, listening to the squeak of the porch swing she begged to have built, smelling the soil from her garden of wildflowers below and beyond her. She had loved this house once. With once last deep breath she walked down the first step of her stairs and never looked back as she jumped in her old truck and drove away.
Old Widow Ms. Beckett shook her head watching the truck pass by, as she flipped another page of her Bible. She had heard the yelling at the house by accident while on her evening walk through the neighborhood, thinking it was only another lover’s quarrel. Watching Emmy drive away, she said a small prayer of protection, and swore that terrible man of a husband would get what he deserved. That girl was a beloved part of the town, and a beloved part of her, and now he’s chased her right out of it for good.
Nightfall caressed the pavement as the wheels turned underneath her. The hills of her hometown had long since disappeared from her rearview mirror, and the new ones ahead of her had not yet been discovered. Emmy hadn’t a thought in her mind since she closed the door of her truck earlier that morning, and that was okay. Her long hair flowed freely all around her as the inky breeze mingled between her auburn strands. The leather bench seat was still warm from the hot afternoon, making Emmy’s legs throb. Not a soul passed her on the road and she was strangely thankful. It was a deserted sanctuary where Ethan wouldn’t find her. Thinking of him again, she pushed the gas petal hard against the floor mat, emotions surging white hot through her body. The lines on the road ran together and her vision blurred, remembering the past six years of her life.
Ethan and her started dating at the beginning of senior year in high school. His father owned the largest estate in town, having established a string of successful race horses. One summer, Emmy had approached his father about getting a job mucking stalls, hoping to learn more about the professional equine world. He had agreed mildly, and on the only condition that she never thought she’d be able to move her way out of the barn. Emmy didn’t let her disappointment show as she agreed and nodded shyly.
Ethan was the mirror image of his father. He was tall and heavily muscled, always walking with a hint of aristocracy. His dark brown eyes nearly matched the black hair neatly groomed above his ears. Ethan watched the operations of the estate like a hawk, adamant on becoming his father. So it was no surprise when he took intense interest Emmy, the new hire. Her interest in him was mild at first, knowing that a girl raised by her grandfather would never end up marrying into such a lifestyle. But Ethan thought otherwise, working hard to make Emmy his before summer was over, and he did.
When school started, her time working at the estate ended, and Emmy would come to watch Ethan warm up the two year olds on their track. Senior year was good to them, and the two would dream about taking their racehorses internationally once Ethan acquired the property on his twentieth birthday. They married shortly after that, and it wasn‘t long after the honeymoon that the relationship started failing. Emmy wouldn’t stay out of the barn, having been around horses all her life at her grandfather’s ranch, and Ethan insisted she stay at the house like a good wife should. They fought constantly, and she moved out of their bedroom into the one down the hallway. He‘d disappear for days at a time, restoring the home’s beauty to Emmy’s heart. However, Ethan would never stay away for long, always returning in a drunken rage, breaking anything that got in his path to bed. Emmy would hear him pull into the long drive, stumbling up the porch stairs, knocking down frames as he scraped his way down the hall. She’d have the guest room door locked before he had the chance to open it. Their life was bound to end in disaster.
Hearing gravel churn below brought Emmy out of her reverie, slamming her breaks as she skid off the road and into bushes. She sat there for a moment, silenced, before tears fell in jagged lines down her cheeks. Graceful fingers wrapped around the steering wheel and Emmy sobbed, muttering to herself in between gasps of air. Her arms were numb, sitting frozen in the driver’s seat, and her heart pounded in her ears. She screamed out the window into dead air, and kept doing it until her throat felt like it was bleeding.
“Why?” she gurgled, “Why me?”
Her small shoulders, rounded and her back knotted under her shirt as she sobbed again, more quietly.
“I don’t wanna be here anymore,” she repeated over and over, rocking back and forth, “I don’t wanna be here anymore.”
Aching arms fell heavily against her sides as her fingers slipped from the wheel. Her shirt was stained and moist, her chest rising slowly and falling quickly. The guilt was riddling her sense, and she wanted to scream again. Instead, her body went limp and bounced lightly as she lay along the seat of the truck. The air was stale around her now, the moon blinking fully above her. Everything turned purple this late at night in the summer and the lightning bugs would soon be out. She closed her eyes and swore she could smell the lilies she left on the kitchen table, and hugged herself wondering how they would wilt in the dry air. She thought of the barns and how they’d never smell of cinnamon in the winter as she delivered Christmas apples to all her babies, nickering impatiently. She thought of the wildflowers she’d planted around the property and how they’d be dead in a week without her to water them. And she thought of her grandfather, sitting home, wondering why she had abandoned him. She had neglected him since she moved into the estate, and now was ready to leave without a word. Her eyes shut then, forcing her tears at bay, begging her head to stop pounding. Emmy held her breath until she felt dizzy, fighting down the sobs screaming to climb out of her lungs. She fell in and out of slumber rapidly, gasping for air when she awoke from glimpses of nightmares. Emmy broke out into cold sweats, shivering inside her humid truck cab, pleading the flat ground around her to swallow her whole.
Just as she prepared for her ribs to shatter from the self hatred constricting them, the world slowly stopped spinning and she waited for the quiet to envelope her. Red dots flickered and danced behind her eyelids and she lay with her face into the breeze. Feeling stability come creeping slowly into her hands, she decided to sit up, leaning against the door frame for support. The pounding in her ears subsided and she couldn’t feel the tears running under her shirt anymore. Dawn would pass over her shortly, and Emmy would need to open her eyes eventually to keep going. With a final exhale of anxiety, Emmy opened one eye at a time. She counted three lightening bugs floating in the cab of her truck before she turned the ignition. The green paint vibrated as the engine rumbled familiarly underneath the hood. It was a day’s drive back to the estate, she thought, turning the wheel towards home. The idea to leave home was ludicrous and how she managed to even drive this far before realizing it was past her own common sense. Her foot sat still on the black rubber floor, covered in dirt and wooden bedding. The idleness crept into her calves, tightening over her knees before surging into her stomach and running hot into the tips of her fingers. Every logical bone in her body pressed her to turn around and go back, return to the only life she’d ever lived. She wouldn’t survive in a foreign town, with nothing but a suitcase, and not a friend to call. It only made sense to go back home, no matter what danger sat waiting for her. Then why couldn’t she lift her foot to drive home?
“Because I just can’t,” she whispered, pulling onto the road, pushing into the only chance she’d ever have to feed the fire that burned in her so long. She bit her lip, moving forward with growing strength. There had to be a hotel in the next town and she’d try to reach it by morning light. There she’d rest and map out her next move.
The light surrounding her carried dust particles like snow and the paleness of the early morning wrapped around her in an eerie softness. The night burned behind her like a faded memory while the road twisted underneath her quiet heart. The open sky singed the last stars orange and pink, and even the flatland now surrounding her was losing the cool hues of the dawn. There wasn’t a single sound outside the churning engine and grumbling tires of her truck. With the windows rolled down and the smell of dirt heating in her nose, Emmy felt as though an unspoken voice was driving her forward. She couldn’t explain how or when it came along with her, but there was something, someone, in that truck with her, pushing her past her fear with wild abandon. And for a strange reason, Emmy found great solace that she didn’t feel alone.
Her eyes started falling heavy as she stared ahead, thick black lashes blinking slowly against her rose bitten cheeks. The warm air soothed her skin, as she pulled her hair off her face and away from her neck. Her arms felt burdensome as she held onto the steering wheel, searching for concentration. The hunt for a resting point was proving to be more difficult than she had expected. She hadn’t considered that there’d be such rural terrain outside her small hometown.
“I guess you just always figure that the next big city is right over the hill when you live in a place with one general store and two stop lights,” she muttered to herself. Emmy couldn’t help but be disappointed that her journey wasn’t starting out as easily as she had hoped it would. She cursed under her breath for thinking it’d be anything like a movie. Life this far had not proven to be the fairy tale she dreamed of as a little girl, so why would it change twenty-four hours away from home?
Home. The word slammed against her chest with a force of emotion she was completely unprepared for. Emmy once again, with exhaustion edging all around her, was remembering all that she was leaving behind. Her grandfather’s face passed in front of her, and she tapped her sneaker against the break for a moment. Henry was a kind and gentle man, raising Emmy since birth, giving her a home full of warmth and magic. He was a man full of stories and tall tales, gathering his granddaughter in his arms every evening when she was a child to tell her tales of cowboys who conquered wild broncs and wilder women, and of magical Indians who watched quietly over the land and its people. His face had always been tanned and leathery, thick with wrinkles, deepening every time he laughed over the end of a story and Emmy’s wonder stricken face. Henry laughed a lot, Emmy remembered softly, hearing his husky voice rumble the inside of the truck cab. It was as if he knew something the rest of the world didn’t, and he was having a damn good time keeping it from everyone. And how he adored his little girl, “Oh my sweet páiste beag,” he’d say to her when Emmy made him proud.
“Papa, I don’t know what that means, can’t you tell me Papa?”
“No my love,” he cooed, patting her head, “It’s just somethin’ I call ye,” not wanting her to understand that in Irish it meant an only child. Her feelings would be hurt, and he couldn’t bare to have her feeling that way.
Emmy closed her eyes, hearing his soft accent like a lullaby to lonely ears. She couldn’t help but let the sadness creep over her again, knowing how disappointed he’d be in her for abandoning him without a word. It was terrible enough that she hadn’t been around him often in the years since she had been married. But she couldn’t look him in the eye and tell him she was happy anymore. She didn’t have the energy to lie to her Papa, to convince him that everything was okay, when they both knew well that it wasn’t. So instead, she neglected the only man that had shown her kindness in her life. Emmy’s eyes grew dewy under sleep laden lids, guilt persuading her exhausted body to sleep.
A piercing sound screamed far off in the distance, pinching at her temples incessantly. Emmy groaned, trying to ignore the disturbance to her welcomed slumber, pleading under strained lips for a few more moments of silence. Instead the sound grew louder and more persistent, rattling the bones that grew dormant inside her. Her body ached as the sound became louder and louder, blaring against her forehead, making the back of her lids flash red. Emmy’s eyes flew open with a start and just in time to swerve as the oncoming vehicle passed her within mere inches. Emmy’s truck charged again into the dirt on the side of the road as she slammed on her breaks.
“Dammit eyes for not staying open!” she yelled at herself in the rearview mirror, checking to make sure she had not suffered any more injury. Cars whizzed past her as she caught her breath, trying to settle the heart that pounded furiously against her rib cage. Noticing civilization passing by, Emmy glanced farther down the road to see a town just on the horizon.
“Finally,” she breathed, “now let’s just hope they have a place with a bed for me to rest in.”
As she pulled into the outskirts of the town, she almost laughed to see it was not very different from her own. The road was terribly uneven, and the storefronts she passed by looked like they had weathered a few storms since their last paint job. She glanced shyly around, reading this sign and that, hoping that she might find an inn or motel. Again the feeling that someone was sitting next to her crawled over her shoulders and the anxiety biting at her fingers slid away. With a deep breath she continued casually down the main street, pulling up to a red light. As she sat waiting, Emmy looked around, wanting to remember this town as the first town she saw on her very own. A little girl and her father walked by in the cross walk as she idled there. Emmy smiled at the girl who glanced back at her, before noticing just beyond them a sign for an inn. Silently she thanked her welcomed traveler and the little girl who was now trailing behind, small hand enveloped in her father’s. She pulled down the street to the right and found it just at the end of the lane.
The small buildings were white washed and the window sills were painted red. Small flower pots hung aside the door frames, and the bungalows were adorned with a homely porch. Emmy parked outside the main building, centered neatly in the middle of the eight bungalows there. When she slid out, her legs buckled slightly, making her fall back against the bed of the truck. Emmy had nearly forgotten that under her worn jeans were bruises, and a damning reminder of why she was here in the first place. With a deep breath she pulled her suitcase out of the truck and headed to check herself into a room.
“Mornin’, ma’am,” the man behind the desk said as she walked through the door.
“Mornin’,” she repeated, suddenly self conscious.
“You fixin’ to check in? If you are, then I’m gonna need to know for how long so I can write you up a receipt.”
“Okay, sure,” Emmy stammered, “I guess ya’ll wouldn’t mind if I just stayed until tomorrow evening? I just need to rest, I’ve been drivin’ all night.”
The man smiled at her then, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes almost touching his graying hair. He handed her the key, attached to a label with the number seven on it, “You’re number seven. Nobody’s in six or eight, and I reckon there won’t be as it’s not exactly a boomin’ town ‘round here, so you should rest easy ma’am. My name’s Charlie if you should need somethin’.”
Emmy smiled more easily then, as she stood frozen at the front desk. She felt slightly awkward, realizing that this was the first time in her life she was truly on her own.
“I can help you with that suitcase I suppose, ma’am, if you want,” Charlie offered respectively, confused over the young girl in his office building with a bruised cheek.
“Oh, no, no, sir,” Emmy said, shrugging off the kind gesture, “I’ll be just fine on my own.”
“Honey, call me Charlie. I have a feeling you might need a friend around here.”
Emmy only smiled and nodded again, unsure of herself entirely. She better get used to this kind of living if she expected to make it more than a day away from him. She also better be careful of her surroundings. The truth was that she was slightly vulnerable to strangers, and she had to mind that she didn’t let too many of them know she traveled alone.
As she opened the door to her bungalow, the smell of fresh linen crowded her senses and exhaustion crept back into her weary body. The quilt on the queen bed was simply white and the copious pillows called to her, billowing atop the mattress like clouds. Emmy set her suitcase at the foot of the bed, too tired to unpack whatever she had thrown in there yesterday. She gingerly pulled off her jeans, keeping her wallet in her back pocket as she folded them and placed them at the side of the bed. Her toned legs flexed sorely before resting against the sheets, as Emmy sat a moment on the edge of the mattress. She unhooked her bra, pulling it out from beneath her thin t-shirt, sliding a hand over the bruises along her sides. She closed her eyes then, reaching up to untie a mess of hair pulled back from her face. Chestnut locks fell wildly about her breasts and she sighed in momentary contentment. Emmy stood once more, drifting to draw the blinds closed before crawling under the covers. She pulled the sheets to her chin as her delicate frame sunk thankfully into bed. Pale blue eyes closed gently as she promised herself that she’d have a plan before she left here tomorrow evening.
An awareness of time was lost on Emmy, drifting in and out of sleep, getting up to pace around the room almost subconsciously, leaving trails of thoughts on paper throughout her temporary home. She tossed in her sleep, muttering and sweating, beginning to purge herself of years of pain. She dreamt of lilacs, snapdragons, and the smell of the barn in the winter. She screamed when she dreamt them set on fire and burned to only a charred remnant of cherished memory.
Real life and dream state must have been converging when Emmy jumped awake with alarm. The usual moment of grogginess was nonexistent as she was acutely aware that something was terribly wrong. She sat silently in the bed, scanning her surroundings. Was she being inappropriately afraid? He wouldn’t, right?
Then as though a palpable being was beside her, whispering no you’re wrong, a large body moved across the window frame. Emmy’s heart stopped as the silhouette was unmistakable. He had come for her, Ethan was here and she felt death creeping up the back of her neck. She couldn’t stop the trembling under her sheets in horrible reflex to her last night at home. She was paralyzed as she scrambled in the inner recesses of her mind for a fleeing reaction. The heavy planted feet crushed the gravel outside the little bungalow, calculating the possibility of breaking in without being noticed. There was no question in hoping he might think she was gone, her truck was parked right outside her door. Sweat started to collect at her temples, wetting her fine, chestnut hairline.
The silence was deafening. Every creak and snap felt like a puncture to the eardrum. She screamed at herself to get up and do something, to remember the courage she had only days ago. But that was before…no, she pushed it out of her memory…no. Though the bruises had just about healed, it suddenly felt as though each one had been re-inflicted. The click of her car door opening may as well have been the click of a gun loading its bullet. She carried most of her money in the glovebox in a safe-box she had put in when she bought the truck. Moments of silence passed as she wished he wouldn’t find her only source of continued freedom.
The thought of Ethan taking her money and what it represented came pulsing through her bones with an undefined power. Once again she realized she was succumbing to the idea of fear and manipulation. She grew swollen with rage; an abused, big cat stuck in a cage she created of flesh and bone. She let the body of weakness and loathing control her, throw her through years of calculated suffering, popping her seams one stitch at a time. Without knowing, she had leapt to her feet, grabbing the letter opener on the desk. Her eyes darted to follow the plotted footsteps outside, quivering with the anticipation of battle.
Conflict is timeless, symbolism it’s wedded partner. Emmy pierced the wall with icy blue eyes, mane standing on end, teeth clenched, imagining the mass of a bear moving with precision closer and closer to her locked door. Time nearly stopped as each exhale lasted minutes. It was clear the bear was as ready as she. But doubtful of the supernatural fight mechanism twitching throughout every muscle in her body.
She saw the knob twist so gently, so soundlessly, its brass gleaming dully in the late morning. Emmy crouched, ready to pounce before he could have first dibs on her flesh. Never again. Suddenly, the knob twisted backwards, resting into its safe haven from a perturbed invader. Emmy’s eyes turned wild, a strand of hair fell wavering in front of them and time stopped completely. It was the moment before a savage attack, when the prey froze in complete understanding of the severity unfolding before them. Nothing and everything happened in that moment, the acceptance of failure, the loss of strength, and the realization again that the predator and prey were too similar to distinguish who was really who.
When the door splintered and broke from the frame, the booms and crackles deafened the sounds of the world. Emmy didn’t hear the terror and rage tearing from her throat, didn’t hear the tumbling pieces of furniture as she jumped aflame at her attacker. He stood in the doorway; a statue of muscle and satanic intention. The dust of splintered debris rose and fell around his motionless body. Every feature on his face was sharp and clear, all of them too calm for Emmy’s comfort. She reached him in mid air, letter opener raised high above her head. She aimed at nothing and everything he stood for. The pressure pricked and released as she dug her weapon into the top of his shoulder. The roar that came from Ethan’s slackening jaw was purely animalistic and his open palm morbidly like a bear as he swat Emmy to the floor with one sweeping motion.
The letter opener slid to the other side of the room as her body fell against the hard wood. He stood slumped against the wall, stumbling a step inside. He laughed heinously looking at her, unaffected from the open wound dripping blood, staining his perfectly pressed shirt.
“When will you ever learn that your home made weapons can’t stop me, your husband, from controlling you?” Ethan laughed again, so wretchedly Emmy quivered just once.
“Get up your stupid, worthless, woman!” Ethan shook, restraining from picking her up by the hair and dragging her to the car. No, no it was much more enjoyable watching her pick up the broken spirit on her own. So incredibly enjoyable, he smiled to himself and oh, the payoff he’d allow himself for showing such patience.
As Emmy rose achingly slow from the ground, she racked her brain for anything she could find to try another attack. Her back was on fire and tightly coiled as she stood bent over a moment more, searching for any object nearby. She grabbed the knob on the bed frame for support as she was about to surrender, and it wobbled underneath the pressure of her weight. In a swift motion, she ripped it off its threads and whirled around, ready to chuck it at his face with every intention of breaking it. But just before she was able to release it from the palm of her hand, she was frozen dead in her tracks. Ethan coolly pointed his gun at her without a hint of remorse for his intention.
“Don’t even try it, Emmy. I’ll blow your face off.”
Emmy licked her lips as she stared down the smooth shaft of the gun, and at the perfectly proportional cylinder. Ethan’s oversized hand almost made the trigger and grip seem comical. There wasn’t a quiver of uncertainty as he held it cocked between her eyes. Her heart beat steadily, almost as if she had prepared for this moment, as if she knew it would all come to this in the end.
The silence didn’t startle her anymore. All the living things surrounding them seemed brighter. She looked down at her palms and swallowed hard, her throat felt like cured meat, and the light around her fingertips were lavender. She thought of her garden and smiled. Ethan grew slightly uneasy at her unabashed delight. His finger twitched once over the trigger. She looked up at him, her eyes gleaming so brightly that the blue in her iris was almost nonexistent.
Out beyond him, the sky looked a muddy red, how strange she thought.
“You know Ethan,” she said delicately, “if you killed me what would you have to do afterwards? You’d have no one but yourself to torture.”
Ethan grew restless and less controlled as he watched her serene philosophy unfold before him. The pistol wavered downward as she finished the question she wanted no answer to.
“You’d only have yourself to kill. You’d have to live with the filth you’ve laid in your bones and the filth of your fathers before you. You’d have to manipulate only yourself to believe you were on top, control only your impulses to disfunction in the world. You can’t stand yourself and your bullshit so you distract yourself with me. If I’m gone, Ethan, you’ll have nothin’. So I quit.”
She spoke not to him, but to herself, unwinding a perspective that had been knotted; a handful of necklaces in a jewelry box. She stood illuminated, glowing a thousand miles away from him, her mind completely detached from her body. Ethan was sweating as he hid the admitted truth she spoke behind a fit of rage and violence. She watched him swell with the turmoil and it seemed he was becoming subhuman.
“No, Emmy,” he spoke deeply, edging carefully around his cracking self maintenance, “you’ll regret it one day.”
“Maybe I will, and maybe I won’t. I guess we’ll just have to find out,” she pondered distantly.
He laughed, his voice cracking, “You think you know everything, as usual. You are completely wrong. It’s because of you I am this way. Your rebellious and ungraceful style of living has forced me to build laws and perimeters for you, so that you would understand how to function in the real world. You’re naive and selfish and have done me more harm than help. Because of you, my business has faltered. I almost deserve to kill you for the worth you are to me. I would have plenty to do afterward, Emmy. There are plenty of your remnants to get rid of.”
His fists clenched, threatening to crack the handle of his extended murder, visualizing the clean click her neck would make if he snapped it. No, he thought to himself, I’ll wait until the bullet has done the dirty work. She shouldn’t struggle in my pleasure. She will lay quiet and enjoy it too, as my god damn wife, he mused.
He was spinning a web to psychologically break her, it was enjoyable to watch her squirm and he knew how to let unfold slowly.
“After you writhed for the last time at my feet, I will have to dispose of your body where your crippled, useless grandfather will never think to find you. I know, I’ll put you under your beloved flower garden. And as your body turns to bits of dirt I will watch each petal wither and die, slowly poisoned from the excrements of your wasted soul.”
His gaze glistened with amusement as he watched the visual turn over in her mind. Emmy’s eyes widened and glazed over like a fawn’s.
“Once that is over, I will turn to your splintered, white washed barn, and pick out each of your horses, one by one, and hang them from the Oak on the property. It’ll be such a lovely sight watching each of them twitch and choke. They’ll heave and convulse, and look wildly around for the “mother” and find she’s abandoned them, left them to die in unbearable pain.”
As he spoke, his voice rose with excitement laying out his plans before her, watching her sway in horror. Emmy’s throat closed so tightly, she couldn’t inhale. Her elbow ached and the hair on her arms stood on end. It was if the whole room was made of ice. Why is it so damn cold in here, she thought to herself, why do I feel so damn cold? She stared at him absently.
“After your eight “babies” are dead, lying in a heap to rot just like you, I will have one last task to finish before I need to worry about living with myself,” he drawled mockingly.
“I will go to the house you grew up in and find your beloved grandfather. I will choke him with my own hands and laugh into his pallid, bluing face. His arthritic, gnarled body will fall to the floor, cracking all his bones on impact. And as he sucks his last breath inward before he dies, he will whisper your name, pleading for you to save him. But you won’t. Because you have failed him once and always, Emmy. You will have been the sole reason for the death of all of your beloved things in life.”
Henry passed in front of her eyes, smiling and humming a song like he always did to soothe her, and she screamed, “No!”
It drew all the air out of her as she fell to her knees with her hands clasped over her ears. He laughed again, penetrating her attempts to muffle the repugnant fantasy he was creating. He settled the pistol’s muzzle square on her forehead. His body was tense with wretched joy as he watched a soul crumble before him. It was so easy to ruin the mind of a precious being, how beautiful. The small breeze lifted the smell of her hair to his nostrils and he closed his eyes in lust. She smelled of earthy idealism, her skin was pale and lips ever so pink. Ethan exhaled a long moment in preparation for what laid before him. How sweet this will be, he thought, to finally have her as he deserved.
“It won’t be long, Wife, before you are mine.”
Emmy didn’t move, didn’t think, she was nothing. Again, everything went black.
“RUN!!” Charlie yelled as he stood over Ethan’s lifeless body, half a baseball bat in his hand, “Run, girl, wherever you’re going, go!”
Emmy opened her eyes, disoriented. She saw the large frame of a man huddled on the floor before her knees and slowly looked up at Charlie, dazed.
He bent down in one swift motion lifting her from her hips. She stood unevenly for a moment as she regained full consciousness. Had she fainted? What time was it? Had days passed or only minutes?
Charlie shook her shoulder gingerly trying to restore her logic.
“Didn’t you hear me? Run, get what you can out of here and run! He’ll only be down a few minutes and after that I’m not sure what I can do to stop the giant, so get out of here!”
Emmy saw it all swirl before her, hit her hard in the chest all at once. Swiftly, she turned and shuffled all of her papers against her stomach and stared at the man from the front desk. He barely smiled as he picked up her suitcase, opening it on the bed, inviting her to pack. She did so soundlessly, with such uncanny grace. Emmy felt as though she were watching herself from the sky, where she couldn’t be touched or noticed. It was just a body that moved in that hotel room, gathering her few belongings in udder shock.
She took one exaggerated step over Ethan’s body with no recognition of what she was doing. She glanced at Charlie once over her shoulder, slid her aviators over eyes and walked out of the door.
Once again, and all too soon she thought, Emmy found herself falling between dotted lines. The mechanism of her body was working while the essence of herself drifted safely away. She was starting to realize as she watched herself from a distance that she found a certain comfort in the melodic rhythm of ground passing beneath her. For the first time in her life she knew the positive in monotony. It’s a strange sensation not to feel anything. And perhaps in feeling nothing, you do feel; lost. Your heart still beats, your brain still thinks, but for what there is no answer. Emmy felt as though she had just lost her entire life. Ethan would probably be on his way to the house already, eager to fulfill the promises he etched into her brain. Everything was dead. No one would come for her, much less know where to begin sorting his lies and even her own. All thought stopped again. She tuned out for miles, submerged in the hum of her tires, unaware of time and travel. The thought of starting absolutely alone still boggled her. How do you even know where to start? A tear fell upon her shirt before she noticed she was even crying. How did she just walk out and drive away? There wasn’t a second thought in her mind to go back and fight, to go back and save what she loved most. When exactly had she become so weak and so tired?
There is a point in someone’s life where their capacity for strength ceases, where they are completely stripped of their persona, transformed under the dark blanket of oblivion. There are times in a person’s life where it seems easier, or “right” to surrender natural traits to coexist instead of standing alone, unique.
Her fist came crashing down on the dashboard. Emmy let out a yell of anger to the only person who’d hear it.
“God damn it!” she screamed, “How did I let it come to this?”
She pressed down on the gas. Harder. Harder. She pressed it to the floor, sincerely trying to break through to the road spinning underneath.
There was no pinpointing where she stopped being strong and unafraid. She had transformed without even seeing it and it took only days. Or had it? She looked back upon all the years spent compromising herself to subdue him. All the things she chose to give up to please him. The steering wheel rattled beneath her fingers, reaching her elbows before she eased off the gas. She was still running away. Why hadn’t she turned around to save her greatest loves?
Her big red horse flashed before he eyes and she felt her stomach turn in knots. She bought him the day before Father’s Day and had chuckled sadly at the gift Henry wouldn’t know about. He was tall and lean, with striking amber eyes. He was a desperate attempt at escaping the reality that awaited her at home. She’d spend hourless afternoons taming the fierce beast beneath her. It was a game of trick and mental intimidation. He knew he was bigger than her, charging right at her as she stood stone cold in the enter of the bullpen.
“Go ahead, you little jerk,” she’d say, “I’ll take you on. Your big bones don’t scare me.”
Eventually he would relent to his young patience and she would get her way. It was an odd relationship that formed between them. Often times in the silence of her locked room she’d lie awake in the dark wondering if they’d ever reach a common ground and work together. His fight was relatable but tiresome and in moments of sorrow she wished she could know his face would console her.But the fire that bequeathed his entire soul made it uncertain.
His lifeless body passed over her. Startled by the gory image she pulled over, sobbing. Her heart beat loudly in her stomach, cries tearing her throat to shreds. She sat there with her hands cradling her face. She didn’t cry anymore for the death of her horses, but for the truth that swept undeniably over her. She couldn’t go back anymore. Not even to save her animals or home. Ethan would be certain of her arrival, certain the horror would manipulate her home. It would have worked, but Emmy had broken. And in the dark pit of her soul, there was no more history repeating at any cost. Not even Henry.
“Oh, Papa!” she sobbed, choking on the words, “I’m sorry!”
There was no thought to create now. Only the hope he heard her somehow. The skin cradling her eyes so delicately was tight and swollen as she searched half heartedly for a place to stop.
