Irresistible Fear

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locals, are entirely coincidental.

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IRRESISTIBLE FEAR

Book One in the Redeeming Trilogy

Prologue

Her life was my death.  That is the way it was.  I had to give one for the other, but was there ever any choice?  When it came to deciding between our fates, hers always came first. From the moment I made her mine, she controlled everything. My thoughts, my feelings, my actions were all dictated by this breath of girl who had no concept of her real power over me.

Night after night, day after day, her hold became inescapable. But did I really want to escape?

Because I loved her. And my love was our death sentence.

 
Chapter 1

The smell of laundry detergent woke her up. And not a moment too soon. Emily Hilbright realized that her torn and tattered bedspread was firmly wrapped around her face, making breathing uncomfortable and more than a little difficult. God, she probably would have smothered herself. That was one way to go, she supposed. Sitting upright in bed, Emily felt momentarily disoriented, pulling the blanket away from her face.   Her head pounded, her eyes were fuzzy and it felt like she hadn’t had a drink of water in a month. 

Then it all came flooding back. She had another nightmare, leading to yet another crappy night's sleep. What else was new?

Emily felt so clichéd. She couldn't sleep, she had nightmares every night. She knew she looked like some deranged sort of meth head or mental patient. See, that's what a complete lack of shut eye will do to a gal; pasty skin and really bad self-esteem. Groaning, she flopped backwards onto her bed and deliberated whether she wanted to crawl back under the covers for another five minutes. Provided her sheets didn't try to murder her again.

A loud smash downstairs nixed that idea.    It sounded as if her mom was already at it.  Emily then heard the yelling begin.  Would it ever end?  Then she remembered something that made her smile.  Today she turned seventeen.  One year closer to the magical ’eighteen.’ One year closer to freedom.  Most days seemed to begin the same way; screaming, yelling, things being broken.  It appeared today would be no different, birthday or not. 

Emily reluctantly got out of bed, the clock read 7:10.  She only had thirty minutes until her best friend, Sasha Reynolds, would pick her up for school.  It seemed as if she were sleeping in later and later these day.  The fact that she couldn't remember a night when she didn't dream of something disturbing and deranged made getting moving in the morning next to impossible.

After dressing in her typical uniform of jeans and t-shirt, this one fashioned with a faded image of the Beatles, she quickly hurried into the bathroom to make a sad attempt at taming the frizz in her blonde hair.  Emily tried to be as quiet as possible so as to not give her mother any indication of her presence.  She sighed; the mirror didn’t lie, she looked a wreck.  The dark circles stood out distinctly under her eyes; a testament of too many nights with too little sleep.  She wasn't the ugliest thing ever, but the fact that she had dropped fifteen pounds in the last two months paired with the constant dull sheen to her skin didn't make her appear overly attractive either.  She used to like the girl that looked back at her from the mirror. But that was before the dreams started. Emily grabbed the tube of gel from the shelf and smeared it into her hair.  She dabbed some lip gloss and used concealer on the bruises around her neck.  Tiny reminders of her mother's angry fingers. For the life of her, Emily couldn't remember the reasoning for this particular attack. Probably best to suppress it anyway. It made living that little bit easier. 

Emily sighed.  She still looked exhausted but she refused to stand there and obsess about her looks a moment longer.  Squaring her shoulders, she felt like a soldier going into battle.  She blanked her face and prepared herself for whatever awaited downstairs.  It was on days like today that she was thankful for being an only child.  She couldn’t imagine anyone else having to endure this constant anxious wariness. A side effect of her alcoholic mother’s brand of parenting. 

Emily left the bathroom and stopped back in her bedroom. She reached her hand around the inside of the door and lifted a heavy black strap off the hook. Emily cradled the familiar weight of her camera to her chest.

Crash!  More noise echoed throughout the house.  Emily started. She wondered if someone else was here.  Her mom was currently single, though that didn’t stop the endless parade of losers that made their way in and out of their home.  Who could she be yelling at?  Emily entered the kitchen to find dishes smashed on the floor and the faucet running full force.  Her mom was sitting at the table with her head in her hands.  “Mom?”  She asked, reaching to shut off the water. Her mom met her gaze with an unfocused stare, her eyes red rimmed and blood shot.  Great she had already been drinking.  “Hi Baby.  I was trying to make you breakfast.  Happy Birthday.”  Emily tried to control her shocked expression.  Her mother hadn’t remembered her birthday since she was five.  Typically it went by with very little notice. Something was up.  She didn't feel remotely guilty for being immedialty suspicious. Experience had taught her that her mother’s motives were never pure. 

She wondered how much money she would have to cough up this time and what it would be for.  The water bill, a missed mortgage payment, gas for her car so she could get to some scummy bar to get loaded?    As if on cue, her mom hiccupped. “Sorry about the mess, haven't cooked in a while.”  Talk about clichés, Emily thought to herself. 

Emily knew she would regret this, but she couldn’t stop the morbid curiosity that instigated her next question. “What's up mom?”  Her mother shook her head, her face pitiful, eyes pleading.  “I need 150 bucks to pay the electric bill.”  Emily felt the familiar knot form in the pit of her stomach.  “What happened to the money you made at Joe’s last weekend?’  Her mom worked as a bartender every other weekend at the local watering hole.  An alcoholic working in a bar was like putting a diabetic in a candy store, often spelling disaster.  But it paid the bills… some of the time.   “Roger, that asshole, took it and then bailed.  They’ll shut off the power if it’s not paid today.”  Emily had no clue as to who Roger was, not that she was surprised. 

With the rate she “loaned” her mom money she would never be able to afford her own apartment next year.  Her mother’s voice took on a wheedling tone that made her skin crawl.  “Please honey, I’ve got no one else to ask.”  Emily bit her tongue, resisting the urge to tell her mom where to shove it.   Every time she had decided to go that route, it never turned out well and she'd be damned if she'd start her birthday that way.

Emily looked again at her mother’s face and felt her stiff resolve weaken.  It was her mother after all and as horrible as she was, Emily was painfully aware that she was the only family she had. And her mother never wasted an opportunity to remind her.   She went back upstairs and pulled out the cash from her hiding place; a copy of Oscar Wilde’s “Dorian Grey.”  She couldn’t waste time feeling sorry for herself, instead she balled up the money and shoved into her mother’s hand when she returned to the kitchen.  “Just please use it for the bill and not something else,” she said before walking out the door. “What the hell are you saying?” Her mother yelled as she closed the screen.  Emily didn't even bother to reply. Shaking off that fabulous run in with her less than stellar parental figure, Emily turned her back to the house and made her way to the curb.  Sasha had just pulled up out front in her dad’s truck.  Her dad worked the late shift at the local textile plant and let Sasha use his truck to get to and from school. This worked out great for Emily because she loathed the bus and the smell of bodies pressed way too close together in the small, confined space.

Sasha gave a warning honk letting Emily know she needed to pick up the pace. Emily threw her the finger and opened the side of the truck.

“Hey chick.” Sasha said, throwing a package at Emily after she buckled her seat belt.  ”Oh what did ya get me?” Emily asked before opening the paper. Sasha just grinned at her before turning the rear view mirror down to check her reflection. Not for the first time Emily felt a twinge of envy at her best friend's effortless good looks. Sasha was ridiculously tall, towering over Emily's 5'4'' frame but the girl worked it like a runway model.

Sasha's blonde hair fell down her back in curls that Emily had never been lucky enough to emulate. Despite her very obvious attractiveness, Sasha shunned all advances from the popular crowd, choosing instead to spend her time with Emily; whose reputation was unfairly dictated by the crazy woman she had just left at home in the kitchen. Emily was very aware of the label her mother had created and by default for her daughter, in the small and gossipy town of Black Briar, West Virginia.

Sasha was by nature, a loner, like Emily.  Sasha’s isolation was self imposed however, unlike Emily’s, who was ostraciszed because of the embarrassment she called a mother.   The friends Emily had had slowly dwindled in numbers over the years. To be fair, she couldn't blame the parents for not wanting their children being in the home of the notorious town drunk. Though the excuses and eventual avoidance by her peers still stung.

Emily tore open the paper to find a beautiful leather bound photo album. There was some writing at the bottom of the cover and Emily leaned over to look at it more closely. The book was engraved “Emily’s Portraits.” She slowly opened it and gingerly fingered the glossy pages. It was thick and heavy and must have cost Sasha a fortune. “Wow Sasha. Thank you.” Emily breathed, taken away by the thoughtfulness and generosity of the gift. Sasha smiled at Emily's reaction. “Glad you liked it. It's from mom and dad too.”

Emily leaned over and put her arm around her friend's shoulders when she came to a stop sign. Sasha squeezed her back and then pulled away. Sasha wasn't one to show physical affection very often. “Please tell them ‘thank you’ for me.” Emily told her. Emily loved Sasha's parents. They had as big a heart as their daughter. Sasha nodded and smiled.

“I see you’re planning on taking pictures today.” Sasha said indicating the camera bag on Emily’s lap. “Well, you never know when inspiration will hit.” Emily replied, hands tight around the piece of equipment. She acknowledged that she was completely dorky about it but her hobby was more than that...it was her escape into something else for awhile.

“Well, you look like crap.  Did you get
any
sleep last night?” Sasha asked. Emily bit off the angry reply on the tip of her tongue. This was a common theme to their converstations lately and Emily was growing weary of talking about it. 

“Not much, You know, the same as every other night.”  Emily remarked nonchalantly.  She had suffered from nightmares most of her life, but they had gotten particularly bad the last six months.  The night terrors had become so intense, so real, that at times she was unsure where reality began and the nightmare ended.  She was afraid to go to sleep and the fear carried over into the waking hours as well.  She frequently had to remind herself that the dreams weren’t real.  Of course her friend's constant concern only made her feel worse.

“I told you to go to a doctor and get a prescription for something to help you sleep.”  Sasha stated matter a factly.  “Like I need any more controlled substances lying around my house. How long do you think it would take for mom to sniff those suckers out?  She’s like a drug dog.”  Emily cracked, attempting to lighten the mood.  “Good point, I guess.  But you have to do something.  Those circles under your eyes ain’t gettin’ any smaller.”  Sasha indicated the dark smudges that had become a permanent fixture under Emily’s dark brown eyes.  “Thanks Sash, you always know just how to make a gal feel special.” Emily quipped. 

Sasha shrugged and then turned on the radio; instinctively knowing that Emily was finished with that particular discussion.  They listened to music for the rest of the ride and Emily was glad she didn't have to talk anymore. Sometimes the effort was way too exhausting.  Emily rested her forehead against the chilly glass. The morning light was coming up over the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. She loved this time of day; everything seemed to be on the verge, a tingling anticipation. Emily really did love living there.