Crumbling Walls (Jack and Emily #1)

by Laura Strandt

  “Do you think he won’t like you after?”

  “How could he?”

  “He still loves his dad.”

  She finally looked Elizabeth in the eye, “I’m damaged goods though. Will will always be his dad but I’ll be the girl who …” She couldn’t get any further with the statement and she shut her mouth up tight, a sob caught in her throat. Elizabeth moved towards her once again but Emily skirted backwards, “No.”

  “Emily …”

  Suddenly the words came tumbling out, “I’ll always be the girl who got traded out in exchange for a bag of heroin and a fifth.”

  Her stomach already turning, “What?”

  Yelling in no more than a whisper, “My father gave me to his friend in order to get what he wanted!” She dropped to the mattress and curled, her arms wrapped around her knees. Putting her head on her arms, the world disappeared and she was back in that dingy living room.

  ▪▪▪

  (February 29, 3 years earlier)

  “No.”

  “You gonna say no to me? No way in hell do you say no to me!”

  She knew it was coming and prayed it would be over fast. But as with any terror in the world, it seemed to drag on for days, everything moving in slow motion, the pain shaking her to her core.

  Hoping he wouldn’t actually carry out what he said, she laid quietly on the floor, blood soaking the shirt he had made her take off, then threw back on top of her when he was finished, her back and chest bruised and bleeding.

  Sometimes, if she pretended to pass out, he’d drag her to her room and leave her there. She usually did end up falling asleep at some point, but only after she’d arranged herself so her feet were against the slightly open door. That way, if he tried to come back in, the pressure on her bare feet would wake her up.

  This time was different, however. She heard him laughing above her somewhere. Heard the chortling she knew never led to good things.

  Grabbing her by the back of the hair, he pulled her to her feet and shoved her forward into her room and kept shoving, until she stumbled and fell on the bed. “Stay here.”

  The stinging of the newest layer of cuts on her back didn’t really allow her to move much anyway so she remained there, face down on her blanket, praying with all her might that someone, anyone would come and save her.

  As the front door opened, she thought that maybe, maybe, maybe, it was the help she’d been silently screaming for.

  The footsteps came closer and she heard the bedroom door creak open, “Just turn her over and remember, regardless, I get what’s mine.”

  The man with him snorted a laugh, “I ain’t gonna be disappointed. Never had one this young before.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her father settle into the chair in the corner, his gun sitting clearly on his knee, “I’ll keep her in line.”

  ▪▪▪

  It was over almost before it had begun and both left the room, talking about whatever, her father busily weighing the bag in his hand, satisfied that it should last him quite a while.

  Once she heard the front door shut, she stood, beyond pain, beyond embarrassment, beyond anger … she felt nothing and realized for the first time that she was nothing.

  Blindly fumbling into the bathroom, she cleaned up as best she could, then returned to her room. Ignoring the bloody sheets, both from her back and from what had just happened, she silently shut the door and moved to the other side of the bed. Prying up a floorboard with her nails, she pulled out the Ziploc bags she had stored there.

  Money. Money she had been lifting from her father's wallet, drawers, nightstand, coat pockets, dirty clothes, for years. A dollar here, a lone five there, on the rare occasion, a ten, but that was always pushing it. Most of the time she left the tens alone because he might remember a bill that large. But a twenty?!? Oh she prayed she'd never find a twenty, or anything higher really, because she didn't know if she'd have the strength not to take it.

  The man was pure evil in her opinion, but his one saving grace, if she was generous enough to call it that, was that he always carried change in his pants pockets, which tended to fall out when he collapsed in a drunken, drug-addled haze on either the couch or the floor. She only saved the quarters though, knowing that leaving some behind would keep his suspicions of her away.

  She hid her collections under a loose board in her room, one that ran beside a joist in the floor and had not been nailed down properly when the house was built. She'd found it on accident one day when she was nine, lying on the floor and trying to ignore the burning fire in her ribs from his shoes. She absently picked at the seams in the floor and discovered one of the boards moved.

  It was the next day that she began her collection. She didn't have any idea at the time why she began collecting the money, but something told her that she had found the hidden spot for a reason and she had better put it to good use.

  Now it made sense. Not bothering to count either the paper or coin money, she shoved both bags into her backpack, along with a pair of jeans, some socks that didn’t match, two shirts, the penknife she’d taken from a gas station some years before and a small, wool blanket she had found in the neighbors’ trash one early morning.

  Getting dressed in her remaining pair of jeans and her last semi-clean t-shirt, she shoved her feet in her shoes. Going into the living room, she set her bag by the door and started towards the kitchen.

  Now, the thing was, she could have sworn she was alone. He always made noise, never having learned how to move quietly. She could, for the most part, always tell where he was in the house. Not this time however, as she walked smack into him standing silently at the counter.

  He’d already started a fresh line and combined with the giant gulps of whiskey he was swallowing, she could already see that he was way beyond buzzed. Turning towards her, he grabbed her faster than she could turn away, “Who said you could come in here?”

  Not giving her any time to answer, he had her twisted around and leaned back over the counter, “Next time, act like you enjoy it …” he fumbled around and digging in the drawer, came up with a paring knife. Pushing her shirt up, “Nasty business, but I never asked for you anyway. I might as well get some use out of you.”

  He dragged the knife from her collar bone diagonally down her chest, at first not pushing, then finding some perverse pleasure in it, forcing the knife down just a bit to puncture the skin.

  She bit her lip to keep from crying out and, as he slowly carved the line, she felt a hot anger building in her stomach. It moved through her body like fire and, before she knew what she was doing, she kicked him hard.

  He stumbled back and she rammed him with all her might in the stomach, sending him flying backwards and sideways. He tripped over one of the kitchen chairs and disappeared down the basement stairs.

  She stood, terrified at what had just happened, then, as her mind began to turn, she walked over to the door and saw him piled at the bottom of the steps, his body contorted at severe angles.

  As she slowly pulled the door shut, the shaft of light from the top of the stairs shrank, until the only thing illuminated were the two fingers of his left hand.

  The door clicked shut a moment later, plunging him into complete darkness and for the first time, showing her the light.

  ▪▪▪

  She told Elizabeth this in jagged sentences with long pauses sprinkled throughout. After mentioning she left him there, then took her bag and walked out the door, she was silent.

  By the end, Elizabeth was sitting beside Emily, tears running down her cheeks and, reaching out, wrapped her arms around the still rocking girl.

  At her touch, Emily seemed to emerge from her fog and, rolling towards Elizabeth, she wedged her body as close as humanly possible to her, letting the remains of her history pour out.

  ▪▪▪

  Early the next morning, Emily’s coughing woke them both up. Sitting up with a groan, she took one look at Elizabeth and realized it hadn’t be
en a dream. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead and when Elizabeth touched her arm, “Honey, are you okay? Are you gonna be sick again?” Emily jerked away and stood, ignoring the sharp muscle pains in her stomach and chest. Not sure what to make of her, Elizabeth sat up quietly and tried again, “Are you okay?”

  Emily stood there, playing with the frayed hem of her t-shirt, “I shouldn’t have said anything, I shouldn’t have told you anything. You should have shut the door in my face and told me to get off your porch.”

  “Emily!”

  “No, I should have never talked to Jack. I never should have let him help me,” her voice was already hoarse from having thrown up so many times and, on top of that, she was on the verge of tears, “I shouldn’t have come over ... I shouldn’t have let my guard down ... I shouldn’t have ...” By now, she was pacing back and forth, “I shouldn’t have dragged any of you into this ... I should have told him to go away.”

  “Could you really have done that?”

  Stopping her pacing, she slowly shook her head, “I don’t know.”

  “Then don’t worry about it.” Coming over to give her a hug, “What do you say we have some breakfast and go from there?”

  Her stomach growled at the mention of food, “Didn’t you say something about pasta?”

  ▪▪▪

  After Emily had finally eaten enough, she sat back on the couch and looked over at Elizabeth, “So, what happens now?”

  Looking at her in surprise, “What do you mean?”

  “I’m underage, alone and blatantly lying to everyone. Aren’t you supposed to turn me in to Social Services or something?”

  Elizabeth gave her an odd look, “I’m not going to do anything. I would like to be able to fix a few of the lies, but from what you told me last night, the last thing you need is someone else you can't trust.”

  A small glimmer of hope began emerging, “You mean, I get to keep my life?”

  “If you want it, of course. And now, you have the added bonus of at least one person you can talk to about things.” Setting her bowl on the table, “I just ask a few things.”

  She slipped back into wary, “Yeah?”

  “One, that you come over as often as you can for supper and any other meal you choose. Two, you let us know if you need anything. Three, you let me look into this whole emancipation thing --”

  Emily stopped her right there, “I’ve already done that. In most cases, abused kids go to foster care. I won’t. I’ll leave again before that happens.”

  Elizabeth nodded, “I’d like to just find out for myself and if that’s the case, then we won’t go there, promise.”

  With a sigh of what could be called immense relief, “Okay.”

  Continuing, “Four, you let me tell at least Will. He may be able to help you more than I ever could. And five, I think you should tell Jack.”

  Shaking her head, “Not today.”

  “That’s fine, just sometime in the near future. I think he needs to know, more than anyone else.”

  Emily stood, “Just not today.”

  Wishing she could make her smile, Elizabeth pulled up next to her, “So, how are you feeling anyway?”

  “My body feels better, just sore. My head is pounding so I should probably get some drugs for that.” Allowing her lips to curve into a slight smirk, “But my emotional state is several steps below complete and total chaos so, really, I should probably be getting ready for school because I'll fit right in.”

  “You don't have to go today. I can call you off.” Debating it for a few seconds, “I can pretend to be your mom, if you'd like.”

  Chuckling slightly through her nose, “I already do a pretty good impression, but … oh, crap, I didn't call in yesterday.” Shutting her eyes briefly and sighing deeply, “Shit … oh sorry … uh, well, if you stay around for another few minutes, you can witness my first lie of the day.”

  Elizabeth's hand on her shoulder made her open her eyes back up, “I'm here as long as you need me and probably a lot longer after you wish I'd leave you alone. Go ahead and call right now and tell them both of you were too sick to remember yesterday, but that you'll send a note in tomorrow with Emily.”

  Feeling the weight of Elizabeth's lie as well as the lightness of finally being honest with her, Emily hugged her, wrapping her arms tightly around her waist, “I both love and hate that you just said that.”

  “I do, too.” Holding her for another few moments, “But you should probably go get a shower while I call home and see how everyone survived a night without me.”

  Heading towards the bathroom, she turned and looked back at Elizabeth, who was now unearthing her phone from the couch cushions, “Thank you.”

  With a slow-spreading, warm smile, “You’re welcome.”

  ▪▪▪

  Just after she got out of the shower, Elizabeth knocked on the door, “Emily?”

  “Yeah?” She stopped toweling her hair off, “What's up?”

  “I called the boys and they told me the schools are closed. We had another snowstorm last night.”

  Hurriedly getting dressed, she pulled the door open, “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. There's another nine inches out there, I think Jack said.”

  “I swear, we never get this many snow storms this close together.” Emily pulled the curtains back and laughed, a sound that Elizabeth wished she could hear more of, “We totally need to look outside more often.”

  “That we do.” Waiting for Emily to turn back in her direction, “So, what would you like to do today?”

  With a serious debate going on in her head suddenly, “I could sleep or I could do my homework or … maybe … I could come and see everybody?”

  Putting her arm around Emily’s shoulders, “I think that’s exactly what you should do.”

  Chapter 16

  Elizabeth tried digging out the car but a plow had been by, burying any hopes of her driving them back to the house, “You up for a walk?”

  Already fighting exhaustion from simply getting her coat and boots on, walking down the stairs and forcing the front door open against a drift of snow, she ignored her sore muscles and nodded, winding her scarf around her neck a third time, “I may need a nap when I get there, though.”

  Taking it slow, she was desperate for a place to sit down by the time they began trudging up the drive, but Jack was right there to catch her as she dragged herself in the front door. He helped her out of her coat and led her to the couch, “I saw you guys coming when I looked out my window.”

  Instead of sitting down, she threw her arms around him and hugged him tight, “I missed you.”

  By now, Jack didn’t care who the hell was watching as he held her close, “I missed you, too. Are you feeling better?”

  Looking over his shoulder at Elizabeth and Will, who were standing by the closet, watching surreptitiously, “I feel better than I have in years.”

  Jack turned them both around without letting go and glanced at his parents, “Do we need to talk?”

  “Not right now. Go relax. We’ll sit down later.”

  The rest of the kids were wrestling themselves into boots and snow pants in order not to miss out on any of their ‘free day’ snow. Tim was re-enacting one of the scenes from ‘A Christmas Story’ with Sam and everyone heard him laughing from beneath the layers of scarf as they walked by.

  Finally freeing his brother from the wool prison, Tim swatted him on the back, “All done. Go, be free, have fun, nail Dave with at least two snowballs for me.” Standing up, he looked over at Emily, “Hey there. Feeling normal yet?”

  With a smile, “Kind of. I’m exhausted but nothing a day of sleep won’t cure.”

  “Then why aren’t you asleep now?”

  Squeezing Jack’s hand, “’Cause I wanted to see all of you more than I wanted to nap.”

  Tim grinned and tugged the end of her braid as he walked by, “Welcome back kid.”

  ▪▪▪

  After lunch, Tim, realizing something
was going on and deciding to be the dutifully good son, volunteered to take the boys to the park to sled down the big hill. Elizabeth pulled Emily aside for a minute, “Would you like me to talk to Will or do you want to do it?”

  Still raw from the first telling the previous night, “I don’t know if I could do it again.”

  “Then, unless you have some objection, I’d like to do it now? I can’t keep this from him.”

  Nodding her head, “I don’t want to either. Not anymore.” Tears swam to her eyes for a moment, but she blinked them back, “But I don’t want him to know everything, please.”