“No, I don’t care what people think…and I knew you would find out. I wasn’t hiding anything—”
“I’m sure you weren’t, and well you may not care about how people see you I do,” he cuts her off and I’m a second away from coming out of hiding to roundhouse kick him in the chest. “You’ve caused enough problems,” he snarls.
What the fuck is wrong with this asshole? My grip on the champagne glass tightens and I have to force myself to loosen up before this thing shatters in my hand.
“I’m sorry if I disappointed you, or tarnished your appearance tonight. But really, it’s not what you think. Clark is not who you think he is. I love him, and I think he loves me too.”
An arrogant snort of humorless laughter erupts from her father’s throat.
“You are so naïve, Emerson. One would think after all you’ve done, you wouldn’t put yourself in another situation like this. I can see that you still don’t understand how the world works. Can you at least promise me one thing this time?”
“Yes,” she says quietly, her head hanging low in defeat.
“Try not to get pregnant again.”
Pregnant again? The words sink in slowly, my body feeling as if it’s sinking into quicksand. The glass in my hand slips from my hold, as the world around me shakes like an earthquake is taking place. It lands with a crash, shattering across the ground, and I imagine that’s how my heart would look right now if I could see it.
Shattered…broken.
Chapter Fourteen
Emerson
I know the moment I hear the crashing of glass against the stone floor that Clark is there. I don’t need to lift my head and look at his confused, heartbroken face to know, but I do anyway, hoping maybe he didn’t hear the fateful words my father had just said, but he did. A deep ache resonates through my gut and I take a step toward him without thinking.
“Oh, this is great. He didn’t know?” my father announces. Clark only glances at my face and then looks away as if he can’t stand to look at me another moment longer. Why didn’t I follow my gut instinct? I knew this would happen, that when he found out the truth he would run, leave me. I can feel the tears forming in my eyes.
I’m stupid, so stupid.
“That boy doesn’t love you and it would be wise of you to grasp onto that now.” My dad’s voice cuts through me like a knife. My eyes are still on Clark, hoping that he says something, tells my dad that he is wrong, that he does love me, but instead he turns and walks away.
He’s walking away. Time stands still, my body is frozen, but my mind is going at a million miles a minute, matching my racing heartbeat. He’s walking away.
My father’s voice touches my ears, he is talking to me, but the words don’t make sense.
All I can think of is Clark walking away and how I’m just standing here doing nothing. Like always, I let things happen without doing anything about them. Be strong. Something in me snaps and my legs start to move on their own accord.
I will not stand here and do nothing. I need to get to him, to explain. I need to tell him what happened and hope he will still want me after he hears the truth. He might not, but I need to try. I follow him through the door and into the main room, he walks through the crowd of patrons and I follow him step for step. I can tell just from the way that he is walking that he’s angry.
“Clark, please wait,” I call after him, uncaring if anyone sees the tears in my eyes or anguish in my voice, but either he can’t hear me, or he doesn’t want to.
We’ve almost made it across the room when someone reaches out and grabs me by the arm, forcing me to come to a sudden halt.
“Emmy, there you are, I was looking for you,” a familiar voice calls, and it feels like pieces of ice are raining down on me. Him. That voice has every cell in my body suspended in time. I can’t breathe, my vision blurs, and it feels like I’m about to have a heart attack.
He found me. He’s going to hurt me again.
“Emmy, come here,” the vile monster calls again, his hand still on my arm, and I want to scream, rip my arm from his hold. The anger and pain inside of me is begging to be released, but it won’t come out.
I’m weak, and always will be.
Emmy. There is only one person who calls me by that name. I might be in a room full of people, but in my mind, I’m alone submerged in the dark. A scared girl unable to protect herself. I’m a prisoner here. I don’t see or hear anything outside that word.
“Shhh, Emmy, you wouldn’t want your father to hear, now would you?” His rancid breath fanned against my ear as he whispers against my skin.
“Emmy, my sweet little Emmy, such a good little girl. My sweet little girl.” Tears sting my eyes, but not because of the words he’s speaking, the words hurt, but not as badly as him prying my thighs apart and stealing from me something that was never meant to be his.
“Please, stop…” I beg, the tears staining my cheeks.
“Emerson…” Another voice pierces the fog. I know that voice. It belongs to… Clark’s calling my name, he came back for me, but it sounds like he’s far away. I can hear his voice, soothing, gentle, like soft waves against the beach, but I can’t see him. I can’t feel him. My body starts to tremble.
I can’t do this. I can’t.
“No one will believe you if you tell them.”
Bile rises in my throat.
“You practically begged for it…”
All I can feel are his hands on me, the pain, the fear. All I can hear are his words. The smell of his expensive cologne, it’s right there, tickling my nostrils. Panic bubbles over and I struggle against his hold. He can only hurt me if I let him.
I have to escape. I’m stronger than this.
“Emerson,” Clark says my name again, and this time it sounds like it’s right in my ear. I feel his hands on my arms, the softness of his touch, melting away the painful memory of his fingers digging into my skin. My savior, my knight.
“She’s fine, we were just catching up.” I hear Rick’s voice, the voice that stars in every one of my nightmares. Clark doesn’t seem to listen, because he continues pulling me away, his arm, snaking around me, holding me to his side tightly as we walk away.
“Yeah, looks like it,” Clark sneers, his voice on the cusp of a snarl.
You’re strong. You’re not weak.
Chanting the words to myself, I try and picture only Clark in my mind.
I’m so out of it, I don’t even know how we make it out the truck. All I know that I am suddenly there, Clark lifting me inside and buckling me up. He walks around and gets into the driver side a moment later. He doesn’t say a word as he starts the truck and pulls out of the parking lot and he doesn’t say a word the whole drive home either. I take that time to stabilize my breathing and organize my thoughts.
Clark knows about the pregnancy, but he doesn’t know that he just met the guy who did this to me. I know I need to explain, he deserves answers. The question is, will I be able to give them to him? I don’t really have a choice if I want this to work.
The drive feels long, but not long enough. Clark still hasn’t said anything even as we arrive at the house. He’s angry. He doesn’t have to say anything for me to pick up on it.