Irresistible Fear (11 page)

“Whatever Emily. Don’t be such an idiot about it this time. Jeremy is super cute and he is crazy about you. You could definitely make worse choices in your life. Though he is so emo sometimes, with his looks of longing and sad eyes” Sasha mocked.

Emily tried to laugh it off but the knot in her stomach made her feel sick. She knew in the back of her mind she was using Jeremy as her way to feel normal. As she told herself over and over again, it wasn’t that she didn’t like Jeremy; it was that she didn’t want to settle for less than amazing when it came to romance.

“I’m actually proud of you Em. You have to give yourself a chance at having happiness with someone. I don’t want you to be lonely forever. Unlike me, who is destined to wander the earth…alone” Sasha sighed dramatically. Emily knew that Sasha was worried about her but she had to suppress the flicker of frustration at her friend’s words. “I’m never lonely Sash, I always have you.” Emily leaned over and kissed her cheek. Sasha blushed at the sentiment. “Okay, okay. I love you and all, but get the hell off of me.” Emily laughed.

Chapter 12

The rest of the drive to Emily's passed with talk of the party. Sasha critiqued the senior girls' costumes and graded them on her “skank scale” of 0-5. Emily laughed until her sides hurt. She forgot all about her colossally ill-advised kiss with Jeremy. Though when Sasha pulled down Emily's street she immediately noticed the fact that there appeared to be a full on house party going on at home. “Dude, did your mom invite the entire population of skid row to your house?” Sasha asked, peering at the unsavory characters that hung out on the lawn. Emily opened the door and got out. “You sure you want to go in there? You can come home with me you know.” Sasha told her.

“I'll be fine, talk to you tomorrow!” Emily gave her friend, what she hoped was a convincing smile and a wave. Sasha frowned, clearly unsure as to what to do. Emily turned her back and headed towards the house. She heard Sasha's car finally drive away.

Emily noticed a couple sitting on her front porch. The guy seemed to be missing a few teeth and his hair hung in greasy strands down his back. The girl, not much older than she was, looked loaded. Her eyes were foggy and she seemed to have a hard time sitting up.

She could hear music coming from the living room and there were people everywhere. Her mother must have invited everyone from the bar. Emily inched inside, not wanting to draw attention to her. She took off the nun habit and scrunched it nervously in her hands. She just knew it wouldn’t be long before the cops were called and she didn’t want to be anywhere around when that happened.

Emily started to go up the stairs when she was stopped cold. “There you are baby! I thought you were going to miss the party.” Emily turned around and looked down at her mother who was dressed in a cat outfit and clutching the banister for dear life. She was way beyond drunk; she was on the verge of an alcohol induced coma. Her mother’s eyes seemed to roll back in her head and she couldn’t stand up right without leaning on something. Emily had learned that this was a dangerous time. Her mother was so easy to set off when she was like this. How she handled the next few moments was critical. Emily was all too aware of what her mother was capable of when she was in this particular state of mind.

“Well, I’m home now. I’m pretty tired, so I think I’ll turn in.” Emily slowly continued her climb up the stairs. Emily felt sick as her mother practically crawled up after her. “Oh no you don’t. You’re going to come and be social. Everyone wants to meet my baby girl.” At least that’s what Emily thought she said. The words were slurred together to the point of not being a recognizable form of speech. Emily put her hands up in front of her. “Mom, I’ve had a really long night. I promise, next time I will be more sociable. I’m just not up to it right now.” Emily ran the rest of the way up the stairs. She began to feel the familiar twinges of panic as she realized her mother was continuing to follow her. This was not going to end well, she knew it.

Her only hope was to get to her room and lock the door before her mom reached her. She tried to sprint down the hallway when a hand seemed to come out of nowhere and grabbed her arm. “Oh lookie what I have here Sylvia. It’s our little kitty cat.” Emily’s fear escalated immediately. She knew that drunken drawl only too well and only one creep called her “kitty cat”; a nick name that made her skin crawl. It was her mother’s most recent ex-husband, Charles. Her mom had been married to him for less than a year but they had been some of the most miserable months Emily had ever experienced.

Charles was a predator and was clearly more interested in Emily than her mother. Charles had been lecherous in every way possible; “accidentally” walking into the bathroom just after she had gotten out of the shower, leaving his hand a little too long on her leg, a kiss that became too demanding. He had never been able to do any more than that because he spent most of his time too strung out on methamphetamines to do much more than drool on himself. Her mom had thrown him out after she had discovered that he had stolen $500 from her bank account. Her mom could handle guys beating her up, beating her daughter up, but when it came to her money, she was viciously protective.

However, when she heard Charles’ voice, she again became that fourteen year old girl, who lived every day not knowing if this man would finally cross that unspeakable boundary. She had been terrified of him and seeing his graying hair and thinning beard brought back every one of those fears. She tasted bile in the back of her throat. “Oh, thanks love.” Sylvia, her mother, kissed Charles in a deep and intimate way. How long had this been going on?

Emily struggled against Charles’ grasp, finally breaking free and moved quickly down the hallway. “She is being such a bad daughter Charles. What am I going to do with her?” Emily’s mom ran after her, surprisingly agile for being so wasted, and caught the back of her shirt, stopping her short. Emily froze, feeling a deep rooted instinct for survival that was as primitive as it was debilitating. Emily’s mom came into her line of sight and she saw the anger burning in her mom’s gin soaked eyes. Emily felt the sting of her mother’s hand once, twice, three times.

“Mom, I don’t mean to make you mad. I’m just not feeling up to it that's all.” Emily cringed at how tiny her voice sounded. Her mother could turn her back into that scared little girl quicker than anything else could. “You are an ungrateful little bitch is what you are!” Emily’s mother screeched at her. Charles put his hands on her shoulders, threads of pure terror unfurled in the pit of her stomach at his touch. “Don’t be so harsh Sylvia. I think you’re too hard on her.” Charles’ breath was warm on her neck. Emily couldn’t take it anymore; she wrenched away and stumbled back towards the stair case.

“You get your ass back here! Now Emily!” Emily felt her mother’s hands grabbing at her again and as she pulled back, she lost her footing and fell halfway down the stairs. “Don’t you embarrass me in front of my friends!” Her mother screamed. Emily looked around her and saw at least twenty people watching them, all too strung out or too indifferent to intervene.

Emily’s mother punched her in the stomach, dropping her to the floor. “Get up you worthless bitch!” Her mother went into frenzy, kicking and hitting her all over her back and abdomen. Emily felt vomit rise in her throat with each fresh assault. She attempted to control the urge to throw up. Emily lay on the floor and took it, too scared to do much else. This went on for what felt like forever until her mother finally stopped. Emily looked up and saw her mother stop to light a cigarette. Emily saw it as her chance and jumped up and raced towards the front door. She had to get out of here. Her mother was in rare form tonight and she didn’t know if her mom would stop at just beating her this time.

Emily lived with the constant fear that her mother would one day go too far. She then berated herself for not telling anyone about this sooner. Her mother was humiliating enough, but the shame of her abuse and imagining the looks of pity on everyone’s faces was almost too much to bear. Besides, on some warped level, Emily loved her mother and didn’t want to lose the only family she had left.

“You aren’t going anywhere, god damn it!” Emily’s mother slammed into her and put her hand flat against the door, holding it shut. “Please mom, just let me go.” Emily’s tired pleading fell on deaf ears. “You aren’t going anywhere I said!” Her mother’s voice was rising and it seemed to drown out the sounds around her. Emily pulled on the door knob, trying to get the door open. Her panic was making it hard to breath and Emily was afraid she would pass out.

Her mother slapped her again and Emily’s eyes watered with the sting of it, her teeth crunching together. Emily knew she had chipped yet another tooth. Emily felt a surge of adrenaline and yanked the door open. She ran into the yard. The couple who had been sitting on the porch were now gone, Emily noticed. So odd that she always became aware of the most random details in moments like this.

Her mother’s erratic yelling followed her out into the yard. Emily crouched down into the grass and brought her knees to her chest. She felt as if she were folding in on herself, trying to make herself so small that her mother wouldn’t bother with her. She was a little girl again, attempting to shield herself from her mother’s blows.

“Hey!” A voice yelled from across the street. Emily looked up to see an elderly man standing on the side walk. “Stop your yelling! I’ve already called the police!” Emily stood up abruptly, her mother started cursing at the man and people started streaming from the house in a mass exodus. Emily took her mother’s arm and pulled her back to the house. “Stop it mom! You’ll make it worse. The police are coming, pull it together.”

Her mother thankfully shut up and allowed herself to be led back into the house. The last of her mom’s shady friends were leaving. All of her mother’s anger had dissipated and Emily could hear the sirens as they quickly approached her house. Emily saw her reflection in the hallway mirror. Her eyes were blood shot and tears stained her cheeks. But Emily noticed that, like always, there were no visible marks left by her mother’s attack. Even the redness from her mother's hand was quickly fading.

Her mother crumpled onto the couch and began to sob dramatically. “Oh Emily. I’m such a bad mom. I’m so sorry.” She looked up at her, mascara dripping down her face, making her look like some sort of diabolical clown. “You won’t tell them will you? I can’t go to jail. I’ll kill myself Em! I mean it! You don’t want to be an orphan do you? That’s what’ll happen if you tell them!” Her mother’s voice became hysterical as they heard the loud knock at their front door.

Emily looked from her mother to the door. She wanted to tell the police officers on the other side of the door. Her mother deserved it! Why should she continue to protect this horrible woman? This woman who had abused and tortured her for as long as she could remember? She watched as her mother began to babble incoherently and tried to grab her daughter’s resisting hand. Why shouldn’t she tell them the truth? Maybe her mother could finally get the help she needed.

But as she stood there, looking at her mother’s withered face she knew she wouldn’t do it. Call it conditioning, call it stupidity, she just couldn’t turn her mother in. Even though it would save her further nights like this, she couldn’t shake the fear that her mother’s words were true, that she would try and hurt herself. Though part of her knew that this was just another emotional manipulation, it didn’t change her decision.

So Emily leaned over and smoothed her mom’s hair away from her face. “Stop it mom, just calm down alright.” Emily felt her mom clutch her arm. “Oh thank you Emily. I just can’t go to jail! I couldn’t handle it!” Emily shushed her mother and kissed her forehead, the acrid smell of sweat and alcohol fused together in a pungent perfume. She then turned and walked to the door, preparing to lie yet again.

Chapter 13

Emily sat on the worn checkered sofa as two police officers talked with her mother in the kitchen. Emily tried not to drown in her own mortification. How many times was that this year that the police had been called to her house? Three, four times? How many times had Child Protective Services knocked on their door because of a call of concern?

She heard the drone of voices waft down the hallway. She already knew the story her mom was feeding them. Whenever this happened, her mom always covered up the truth with an outrageous story of teenage rebellion. Emily would be painted as a “wild child,” unruly, out of control. Emily’s mother would either tell them that she had broken curfew or had come home drunk. Emily laughed at the irony there. Then her mom would begin to cry, bemoaning her lot at having to deal with such an ungrateful child. She just didn’t know what to do. Hurt her baby? Never! She may get angry and raise her voice but she’d sooner die than lay a hand on her daughter.

And like all the others, they listened to her story. Mostly because they didn’t want to have to deal with the town drunk and her daughter, that was just more paperwork. Emily didn’t think they ever truly believed her show of maternal devotion, but if they didn’t, they kept it to themselves. They would then talk to Emily about listening to her mother and threaten juvenile detention. Same old song and dance each and every time. Then they would leave. And Emily would be left to deal with her mother, who would either be horribly vicious or a blubbering lunatic. Either way, it sucked.

Emily wrapped herself in the afghan thrown over the back of the couch. The faded blues, yellows and reds a mismatch against the sickly green checks of the sofa. Emily fingered the rough fringe. Emily’s great-grandmother, her Nanny, had sewn this afghan when Emily’s mother had married her father. When Emily was a little girl, she would wrap herself in this blanket and imagine that the threads were created with all her Nanny’s love and happiest memories. Nanny had survived the death of her own daughter, Emily’s grandmother, before Emily had been born. Nanny was a strong lady, made with a strength that she had passed on to her great granddaughter but seemed to have skipped Emily’s mother all together.