Chapter 36

“Emma! My little girl.” She releases Sophie’s hand and reaches out to me, her other one bound in a cast and strapped to her chest. I hesitate, straighten my tailored pants, and blouse and walk toward her dutifully, bracing myself so that I stay calm and in control.

“Mother.” I take her hand; it’s cold and smooth but feels like skin and bone and it angers me. She’s obviously not eating properly again, so caught up in another affair of the heart, bogged down with infatuation. She was always good at ignoring her own basic needs when wrapped up in another unhealthy relationship.

“It’s so good to see you … You came home to Chicago for me!” her voice is soft and injured causing the reaction to catch in my throat. Guilt, tears, anger, a chaos of emotions, and I can’t look at her in the face, already uncomfortable holding her hand. I glare out the side window over the buildings in Chicago and the dull weather outside, trying to remain impassive. Trying to steel against all that she makes me feel. I want her to cut the crap with the over sentimental greeting, it’s obviously purely for Sophie’s benefit.

“What have you told the police?” I smart. I don’t want to do this tear-jerking deep conversation crap with her. I just want to make sure she’s okay, that she’s healing, then I want to get the hell out of this place. As soon as earthly possible.

“Emma, please? You know it’s never that straightforward,” she whines, and I bristle and drop her hand coldly. My face snapping around to lock eyes with her in impulsive rage. Same old familiar conversation.

“You’re kidding me, right?” I snort in disbelief, spinning my body around to match my glare.

“You have no idea, Emma, you don’t know what happened.” Her voice seems suddenly stronger, losing all ounce of vulnerability now that I’m peeking anger at her.

“I don’t need to, it never changes. Who was it this time? Another five-minute romance or is this someone longer term? How often has this one hit you huh?” I snap; my temper getting the better of me and Sophie moves off to sit in the corner. She looks uncomfortable and wide-eyed and it makes me all the more guilty. She doesn’t need to see all this.

“That is none of your concern! This is my life and affects only me!” My mother snaps back at me, yanking her hand back to her chest in anger. Not so frail now.

“Don’t you fucking dare! What about Sophie? … What about justice? What about me? It affects all of us!” The tears blind me, and I start losing it. Bubbling up inside. I storm away, wrapping my arms around myself and glare out of the window to pull it all back in. Cool down, be still.

“I shouldn’t have started a fight, Emma … This was as much my fault.” The same pathetic cringey voice, the same pathetic excuses as she drops the attitude and goes on in full blown victim mode. There will be tears soon.

I can’t do this, not again; coming back was a mistake and this is just a sad repeat of a dozen conversations. I can’t hold it in, hold my anger or the heart break. My mother is once again ripping out my very soul and throwing it to the wolves. She hasn’t changed at all and this could be sixteen years ago all over again.

“This was a mistake … I can’t be here. I was stupid to think this one might have knocked some actual sense into you. I’m taking Sophie to New York with me, away from this bullshit existence that you inflicted on me … Don’t even begin to argue.” I swing back around at her, my eyes pouring pitifully; she looks shocked at my obvious distress. She has never seen me cry, not since I was a very small child. “You’ve no idea the chaos that you cause … “This …” I gesture across her body and injuries. “Is only the tip of the iceberg, Mother! I won’t let you subject Sophie to more of the same crap.” I can’t say anything more, my voice breaking, the tears taking over. I just shake my head aggressively and walk out fast. Unable to say anything else or keep myself in check and not staying to have her argue or try to bully me into changing my mind. I won’t keep being her doormat.

I already agreed to let Sophie stay this morning and get a bus home later, giving her extra money so. I don’t have to stay and endure this. I have no reason to stand another second and blindly storm out heading straight for the main exit while internally ranting.

I march across the wet car park, my coat in my hands, shaking and sobbing. The driver that Jake hired standing dutifully to open my door as I approach, and I get in. I can’t contain everything going on inside my head.

I was stupid to come here! I was a fool to think I could handle this. She will never change. She will never see that she’s the one who brings this on. She chooses these men, then makes goddamn excuses for what they do.

It only makes me more determined to take Sophie with me when I leave. I decide it’ll be sooner rather than later as I can’t stay here much longer; she won’t talk to the police, even I know that. She will make Sophie lie to them for her too, like she used to make me.

Deny she knew her attacker, and then what? He will be back in a heartbeat, until the next time when she ends up back here and then? Maybe one day one of them will kill her. Can she not see how what she does affects me, affects Sophie?

I calm down as we drive, wiping my face and bringing rational thought back to my head. PA Emma winning over when faced with too much trauma to cope with. My defense mechanism kicking in and numbing it all away, pushing it down until I am nothing but a cool empty shell once more.

I gulp down air, pull it all back in and focus instead on getting the hell away from this place. I hate Chicago! I glare out at the passing scenery and just feel like I’m suffocating.

I pull out my cell to see an email from Jake, instantly bringing softness to my face and a lift in my mood. He always brings me back from craziness, even when I think nothing will and I hurry to open it.

Jake Carrero has sent you an iTunes gift.

“Just Give Me A Reason” by Pink.

I gawp at it with confusion, sure I’m missing the message. I press play listening to the song, trying to decipher the meaning for sending it and can’t. I glance at the time of the email and realize he sent it at four in the morning, most likely when he was out with Daniel. This was instead of a drunk dial episode.

It seems to be a song about learning to love again … yet it causes a pain in my chest as I absorb it; it’s beautiful and deep, but I can’t see the connection. The title confuses me. I’ve no idea what to send back to him. Maybe I shouldn’t send anything because he was obviously intoxicated when he sent it. I like the fact he was thinking of me at that time though, while surrounded by friends and women. Even if it makes no sense.

Maybe it was a mistake and he’d meant to send something else? Knowing Jake, it was related to his current thought and probably stupidly obvious in his state.

It plagues me as we head back toward my mother’s apartment but it’s a welcome distraction. Jake is never usually one to be so cryptic either as his songs are either all about the title, or usually at least it has some obvious message in the lyrics. This time I have no idea.

I slide out of the car and dismiss the driver in front of the shady convenience store, ignoring the two drunk men sprawled on the pavement. It looks as though one of them is laying in a puddle of urine and I grimace as I scoot past and let myself in the side door. I intend to pack and wait for Sophie to call as we’ll be leaving tonight; there’s no reason to prolong the agony of this place any longer than that.

I turn the corner onto the upper landing, the keys in my hands ready to let myself in. A noise in front of me causes my head to snap up in reaction as I take in a dark figure standing against the wall in the shadows. I freeze, blood coursing through me at speed sending my heart rate up. There’s something familiar, yet terrifying about the figure. I know they see me too and I don’t move to make it obvious that I am rattled. They continue staring back at me.

“Well, well, well.” The hoarse gritty voice comes at me icily, my body recoiling inside and my brain freezing at the sound. Even after all this time I know that voice and it makes my insides shrivel up.

Ray Vanquis stands five feet away from me, like a mad man in the shadows, his eyes glinting cruelly before he steps into the light. All six feet of tattooed menacing rage and muscle. The devil from my nightmares. I gasp, and my body goes into high alert, adrenaline coursing as I begin to tremble. Fear gripping me but I stand my ground.

Oh, my god!

“What are you doing here?” I snap coldly, bringing my shorter height up to appear more menacing, attempting to look in control. Ice and hatred in my voice as teen Emma bristles up getting ready to defend me. Every hair stands on end.

“I came by to see Jocelyn … To talk to her.” He sounds amused because he thinks I’m intimidated by him, but he keeps his distance. I reach into my bag and feel for my cell; it’s the only thing I have that I can use as a weapon. My body vibrating with nerves. I have nothing else, not even my trusty mace that used to be a constant when I lived here. I think of the baseball bat in my old wardrobe, something I slept with many a night and wonder if I can get inside to get it, to feel safer while in the presence of this monster.