Saving Emery Clarke

E M E R Y · 0 9

E D I T E D : J U L Y  2 9 ,  2 0 1 7

warning: the last section of this chapter is intense and may be triggering for some readers. Read with caution.

•°•°•

"Thank you, Seth. For everything," I say, smiling gratefully at him. "You really didn't have to do anything."

Seth shakes his head immediately. "Of course I did."

"Thanks anyways. I'll see you on Monday," I say, unbuckling my seat belt and opening the door.

"Yeah. Call me if you need to. Or want to," he adds, flashing me another one of his million dollar smiles. "Bye, Em."

I grin at the nickname. "Bye, Spiderman," I say, referring to the boxers he let me borrow. Before he can comment on the nickname, I jump out of his truck and shut the door. He had a frown on his confused face before he realized what I meant.

I wave at him, and start down the road. We were at our usual stop, where he picks me up and drops me off.

I turn my head once more, to take his appearance again. I see Seth smile and shake his head before turning his truck around and speeding off down the road.

I limp home, but have a smile the whole time. I haven't smiled this much in forever, and it feels great.

I'm met with my usual anxiety when I come up to my door. It's kind of sad I get nervous going into my own home. I open the door slowly, peeking through it. "Mom?" I call, walking in and closing the door softly.

I don't hear a response. Either she's passed out or she hasn't made it back yet. I'm honestly hoping for the latter. I walk around the dirty house, not finding my mother anywhere.

I let out a sigh of relief. I go into the kitchen, where I chuck the jeans I wore to Seth's house in the trash can. They are stained with blood, and there was no way to get it out.

I then go into my small room, where I strip out of Seth's shirt and boxers. I had worn them back here, because my other clothes were either bloodied or dirty. I fold his clothes neatly and set them in the top drawer of my dresser. I'll give them back later.

I end up taking a shower, putting on a fresh shirt and shorts afterwards. I relish the feeling of being alone in my house without my mother to abuse or scream at me.

I take the time I have to clean up the empty liquor bottles and food wrappers. Once I am done, you can actually see the coffee table, floor, and couch. I don't have any cleaning supplies, so this will have to do.

I sigh, taking a seat on the couch. This is probably the first time in a while that I've actually relaxed in my house. I'm usually on edge about my mother.

Just as I'm settling into the couch, the front door opens. I jump up and off the couch, my heart pounding. It's sad how I get worked up over my mother coming home. I guess that's what my life is. Sad.

I hear some giggles, and then the door shut. Suddenly, my mom comes around the corner, a guy latched onto her. They don't even notice my presence.

The couple falls onto the couch, the guy on top of my mom. They are already trying to strip each other, making me gag as I turn and limp as fast as I can to my room.

I shut the door behind me, trying to keep the pancakes I had this morning down. My legs are shaky, as are my hands.

My mom has never brought home another man. No matter how wasted or high she got, she never did it. She had too much respect for them to do that.

I didn't notice tears were streaming down my face until they started dripping onto my shirt. I fall onto my mattress, curling up as tight as I can manage. I rock myself back and forth, trying to calm myself down.

It's okay, Emery. It's all okay. You're...you're with Seth right now. He's making you those chocolate chip pancakes and laughing with you in the kitchen.

  For some unknown reason, that does the trick. Thinking of Seth, of how happy I was with him, calms me down. My hands still shake a little, but my tears have stopped. That's it.

With one last deep breath, I fall asleep, trying to forget about my mother and that man.

•°•°•

I wake up to the sound of rustling in my room. Immediately, my eyes fly open and I look around. A large figure is advancing towards my mattress.

I sit up and back away. "Can I help you?" I ask, my voice wavering. I don't get a response. The person drops to their knees on my mattress, crawling towards me. They roughly grabbed my legs and pull me towards them, landing me flat on my back.

"Stop! What are you- stop!" I cry out, fighting the intruder's hands off me. "Stop!"

They don't stop. They don't even pause. The person continues to grab onto my shorts and yank them and my underwear down to my ankles. I scream, kicking at them. I tried to pull my shorts back up, but I was met with a hard slap to the face.

"Shut up, bitch!" He snarls, ripping my shirt and bra off my body. I sob, trying to cover myself up.

"No! Stop!" I wail. His hands are grabbing at my breasts, squeezing them painfully. I let out another scream of pain as he grips my ribcage and flips me onto my stomach. He lands about five slaps to my bare ass as I cry.

"Don't resist or you will regret it," he growls, grabbing a fist full of my hair and jerking my head back. "Got it?"

I whimper in pain and didn't answer. He jerks my head back harder, then thrusts straight into me without warning.

I scream so loud I'm sure even the neighbors down the street heard. The pain is almost unbearable. He keeps going, using my body as he likes. I finally give up, going limp in his painful grip. Everything was painful.

His grip.

His thrusts.

His slaps.

But most of all, his words. That was the most painful part of all. Slut. Whore. Bitch. Filthy. Disgusting.

Somewhere in the midst of this, I completely blacked out.

•°•°•