Jackson's Girl: Being His Duology

by Charlie R. Love

  A large shadow filled the doorway. He was much bigger than my dad. He walked into my room. My whimpered gave me away.

  He knew I was awake. He paused in his steps, though I knew it wouldn’t stop him. The carpet ruffled beneath his feet, again.

  “Is everything alright?” Someone asked. Not the monster. My dad.

  “Everything’s fine, Caleb. I went to the wrong door,” the monster answered.

  “Oh.” My dad didn’t sound convinced. “Well, come back out.”

  The monster hesitated for only a brief moment before he turned away from me. I let out a relieved sigh.

  “Are you doing okay?” The monster asked my dad. He sounded sincere.

  “I don’t know if I will ever be okay again.” My dad sounded like he was trying hard not to cry. “My Emma left. How can I ever be okay?”

  They closed the door, and I was left alone in the darkness once again.

  Someone tugged at the blanket, drawing my attention. I looked to it and found a little girl with big brown eyes staring at me. “Emily,” I whispered in the dark room. She grabbed ahold of me, her small hands trembling as it made contact with my skin. And I realized I was no longer the little girl.

  “Come on. Let’s get out of here,” younger me said, standing up, her hold on me firm and secure. She was afraid to let go. I was, too.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “To see mama.”

  “Mama’s dead,” I told her.

  The girl nodded. “But she wants to see you.”

  I didn’t say any more because we were no longer in my room, but outside in meadow, a beautiful meadow, though from the looks of it, fall was coming. My favorite season.

  The sun was just setting, the sky still bathed in gold and orange. Younger me ran along the almost dead grass, laughing without a care in the world. I smiled as I watched her.

  Movement caught my attention, and I turned to it. My breath caught.

  My mom stood there, dressed in her favorite dress, looking as she always did. No wrinkles, no graying hair, no nothing.

  It wasn’t natural.

  Yet I found myself drawn to her. But I didn’t dare go any closer.

  She raised her hand out to me. “Come here, baby.”

  I stubbornly shook my head. Tears sprung to her eyes.

  “I love you, Emily. Come here. Let me look at you. I want to see for myself that you’re okay.”

  “You left me,” I said.

  “I’m sorry, baby. I really am. I didn’t have a choice.”

  “You always have a choice.”

  Her cries became louder and louder, and unable to stand it anymore, I turned my back on her. Only, I could still hear her cry.

  33

  Past: Emily

  Someone lifted me in his arms, and I whimpered. “Shh, sweetheart. It’s over now. I got you. I got you.”

  The women’s cry in my head grew louder. And I realized it wasn’t my mother’s cry I was hearing, but my own.

  I looked up. “Jackson?”

  He tightened his arms around me. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I should have never left you alone.”

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled myself in closer until I could bury my face in the crook of his neck.

  I was shaking.

  “Take me home,” I whispered against his skin. His arms tightened around me.

  “Is she okay?” Aiden asked, his voice loud and abrasive in the otherwise quiet night. I whimpered. Jackson shushed me gently, his hold on me firm and strong.

  “She will be,” he replied. I didn’t know what else Aiden said, or if he said anything at all, and I didn’t care what happened to Jude and his friends. I just wanted to get out of there.

  Jackson carried me to his car. He went out through the side of the house, so not to draw attention to us, and even though I knew there were people about, outside the porch, no one paid us any attention.

  He set me down long enough to opened the car’s door and settled me on the passenger’s seat. I flinched away when his hand came in contact with a tender spot on my jawline. Jackson tensed, his eyes blazed in anger, though I knew it wasn’t directed at me.

  “I don’t even remember being hit,” I said softly. “It doesn’t hurt me much anymore.”

  His voice sounded strained when he said my name. Almost as if… almost as if he was crying. He pulled me to him, holding onto me tightly. “Let’s go home, love.”

  I nodded. I didn’t want to be here anymore. Jackson got in the driver’s seat and sped away from the house, away from my nightmares.

  When we reach our house, Jackson quickly climbed out of the car and came to my side. Then, I was in his arms once again, as he carried me into the house. I unlocked the door for us, and without another word, he brought us into the master bedroom, setting me down on his lap when he sat down on the bed.

  I hadn’t realized I was shaking until my teeth started clattering against one and another. And then the tears came, and it wouldn’t stop.

  The ramification of what could have taken place settled in, and even though I knew I was safe with Jackson, the thoughts of what they had done haunted me and would not let go.

  Jackson tightened his arms around me, letting me cry as loud as I needed to. “I’m sorry,” he told me. If I could speak, I would tell him he didn’t have anything to apologize for. The hiccups happened just as I buried my face in the crook of his neck, and Jackson rubbed soothing circles around the small of my back.

  “They didn’t… did they?” I asked after a long while.

  He pulled me back a little so that I could look at him. He frowned before understanding reached his eyes and he shook his head. “No, sweetheart. They didn’t.”

  I let out a breath of relief. “I don’t remember.”

  He looked worried. “You don’t?” I shook my head. “I think it’s good that you don’t. It’s okay. It’s over now.”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “It over now.” So why didn’t I feel relief? “Will you kiss me, Jackson?” I asked. I wanted his touch to erase theirs. I didn’t know what I would do if he rejected me. Would he be disgusted that another had put his hands on me?

  I didn’t need to worry. Jackson cupped my cheek and brought my lips gently to his. He kissed me as if I was breakable. But I didn’t want gentle. I wanted passion. I wanted desperations. I wanted him to kiss me as if I was strong because I didn’t feel it at the moment.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him in closer to me. And when I swiped my tongue across his bottom lips, he groaned in pleasure. He opened his mouth for me and let me take control.

  I pulled at his shirt until it was off, and threw it on the ground. I did the same with mine. But when I made a move to remove his jeans, he grabbed both of my wrists and put it between us. I looked at him, unable to hide the hurt I felt over his rejection.

  “No,” he said softly.

  “No?”

  “No,” he repeated.

  “But you told me it was my choice. You told me we will go as fast as I want,” I said, trying to keep from crying.

  “Yes,” he said, cupping the back of my neck and pulling me in closer. “I said it was your choice, as long as I know you’re ready.”

  “Why are you hurting me?” I asked.

  He rested his forehead against mine. I wanted to move away, but he wouldn’t have it. “How am I hurting you?” he asked, his voice too tender.

  “Right here,” I said, placing his hand in my chest. “It hurts.”

  Jackson shook his head. “You know I want to.”

  “Do you? Or do you think I’m dirty now?” I asked, my lips trembling.

  “Never. Sweetheart, what happened tonight is not your fault. You can never be dirty. Not to me. Not now. Not ever.”

  “But they touched me. I need you to take that away. I don’t want to have the imprints of their hands on my skin anymore.” And for the first time in a very long time, I did something shameful. I begged him to l
ove me. “Please Jackson.”

  I was crying then.

  “Shh,” he shushed me. Didn’t he know that only made me want to cry harder?

  He hugged me. “You’re not dirty, sweetheart, and you’ll never will be. Yes, I want you. How could I not? Just one look at you and I could feel my control slipping. You’re so beautiful. The most beautiful girl I have ever met. I want you. But I don’t want our first time to be because of what happened tonight. Do you understand?”

  He lifted my chin so that I would look at him. His eyes shone with so much sincerity that I found myself nodding.

  He smiled. “Good. When the time comes for us, I promise you, there will be nothing in this world that would stop me from making you mine.”

  “But I’m already yours, aren’t I, Jackson?”

  He leaned down and kissed me. “Yes, you’re mine. As much as I am yours. Now, do you want me to get us ready for bed?”

  I mutely nodded. He stood up, with me in his arms, and walked us to the bathroom. “I would like a shower first,” I said.

  He changed direction to the bathtub and settled me on my feet once he climbed inside the tub.

  He removed my clothes.

  And there wasn’t anything sexual behind it. But there were tenderness and respect. Mostly respect. He removed my clothes as if he worshipped me. In a way, I supposed he did. And then he removed his own, and turned on the water. He used his own body to shield me from the cold water and didn’t move out the way until he deemed it was warm enough.

  “Thank you,” I said, my eyes watering again, but for an entirely different reason. He kissed my temple before moving back and rubbed shampoo on my hair. We didn’t talk much while Jackson cleaned us both. He then led me to the sink, where we both brushed our teeth, and then I was back in Jackson’s arm, and he carried me to the bed, sitting me between his legs.

  He placed me in the center and ran a brush through my hair. I flinched slightly when he got to a particularly tender spot from when one of the boys pulled my hair, but Jackson sooth away the hurt with his gentle touch and equally gentle kiss.

  I leaned back when he was done, and he positioned us until he was laying down and I was partly on top of him, our legs tangled beneath the sheet.

  “Sleep, sweetheart.”

  I nodded against his chest, but sleep alluded me. It wasn’t long before I fooled Jackson into thinking I was asleep that I heard him sit up on the bed. He pulled the covers over my shoulders, and I had thought he was leaving the bed, but he just sat there.

  And then the bed shook. I was confused until I heard him.

  A soft whimper coming from the strongest man I know.

  Jackson was crying.

  Too shocked to do anything, I laid there and pretended I was still sleeping, even when everything in me told me to comfort him. I didn’t think Jackson wanted that, or else he wouldn’t have waited until he thought I was asleep.

  And I wanted to give him his space. So I laid there until the bed stopped shaking, and then I was back in Jackson’s arms. His hold on me was tight, but I didn’t dare make a single noise.

  It was in that position that we both succumbed to the exhaustion and slept fitfully throughout the night.

  I woke feeling I hadn’t slept at all, my nightmare still clung to me. It was the same thing I saw last night.

  Last night…

  I wasn’t sure what happened. Perhaps I was so frightful, I passed out for a moment, and seeing my mom again, that was nothing more than wishful thinking made into a dream.

  But the dream came back to me again, and it started out the same way. With the monster in my room.

  And it didn’t feel like a dream. That was what scared me the most.

  It felt like a memory.

  Jackson’s arms went around me, letting me know he was awake. “Morning,” he whispered, burying his face in my neck.

  “Morning.”

  He pulled back to look at me, his fingers tracing around the bruises on my jaw. I knew he was angry, though he hid it well. “How are you feeling?”

  “Much better now.”

  He leaned down and kissed me, though his kiss wasn’t like how it usually was. He was far too gentle with me.

  I didn’t like it.

  I bit his lips and climbed on top of him.

  And when I aggressively kissed him, urging him to kiss me back with equal fervor, he hesitated. I pulled away and looked at him, a frown forming on my face. “What?”

  “Are you sure you want to rush this?”

  “Jackson,” I grumbled. “We are not talking about this anymore.”

  He cupped my cheek. “After what happened last night, I think we should. You should know I won’t be angry with you if you tell me you want to slow down.”

  “Yeah, but I might be.”

  “Might be what?”

  “Angry.”

  His lips twitched. I glared at him. “Okay, sweetheart,” he conceded. And he kissed me again.

  I sighed into his lips. “Much better,” I said when he flipped us around so that I was beneath him once again, his body shielding me from all that was ugly.

  He deepened the kiss, the wonderful feel of his weight on top of me worked well to make me forget even my own name, let alone the monsters that played in my head. When he pulled back, his eyes were filled with regret. “I wished we didn’t have to leave this bed,” he said.

  “We don’t.”

  He shook his head. “Aiden and Grant will be here soon. They want to see for themselves that you are okay.”

  I pouted. “You mean now?” He nodded. Grumbling under my breath, I tried to push Jackson off, but he wouldn’t budge. I searched his eyes.

  With his index finger, he traced along the bruise that I was sure already formed on my face. “I’m sorry, Emily.”

  My eyebrows pulled in together. “Why are you sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t protect you as I should. I let my temper get in the way, and if I hadn’t left you alone, Jude wouldn’t have got the chance to grab you.”

  I took hold of his hand and squeezed. “We talked about this. I know you want to protect me from harm, but can’t you see how impossible that is? I survived what was done to me yesterday, and if you hadn’t come to me on time, I don’t even want to think about what could have happened.”

  “Protecting you is my job. And I failed.”

  He closed his eyes, but not before I saw the guilt in them. I grabbed his jaw roughly and shook until he looked at me. “It is not your fault. You can’t go around thinking it is whenever I get hurt. That’s just ridiculous.”

  He placed a gentle kiss on my lips but didn’t say any more. I knew his silence wasn’t due to him agreeing with me. The opposite. But before I could say anything else, he climbed off the bed and walked into the bathroom.

  And I continued to lay there, thinking, as far as we had come, it seemed we had just taken three hundred huge steps backward.

  34

  Past: Emily

  Just as I finished rinsing the toothpaste from my mouth, the doorbell rang.

  Then Jackson walked past the open bathroom door. He still hadn’t said more than a handful of words to me since our talk in the bed.

  It was unnerving, to say the least.

  Jackson obviously still felt guilty over what happened, and I didn’t know what more I could say to get him to listen to me. He was even more stubborn than me.

  I wiped my face on the hand towel when I heard raised voices. It sounded like someone was arguing. Quietly, I slipped downstairs, and the voices got clearer, Grant’s voice being the loudest one. And I heard exactly what the fight was about.

  Anger rushed through me as I quickened my steps and walked out to the living room. Aiden was off to the corner, his face stoic, while Jackson stood there, not defending himself as Grant ripped into him.

  I moved until I was between them, my back to Jackson as I faced Grant. “Stop it.” Grant’s jaw clenched
. He looked like he wanted to say more, but he kept his mouth shut, which was fortunate because I had the urge to hurt my best friend. “If you can’t be nice, I need you to leave.”

  “Nice? What happened last night shouldn’t have happened. Jackson should have never left you alone.”

  “Stop it. What happened last night was that Jude grabbed me. If you want someone to blame, blame him.”

  “You don’t think I know that? It still doesn’t excuse the fact that Jackson left you there alone. If he weren’t busy trying to stake his claim on you, things would have turned out differently.”

  I shook my head. “Shut up, Grant. You’re mad at the wrong person. I am okay because Jackson was there. He saved me.”

  “You wouldn’t need saving if it weren’t for him,” he hissed out. I lost it then. And if Jackson wasn’t there, wrapping me securely in his arms, I would have tackled Grant down.

  “Alright, calm down sweetheart. It’s okay,” Jackson murmured softly in my ears. I tried to shake him off, but that only made him tightened his arms around me.

  “No, it’s not okay.” I stopped struggling and met Grant’s eyes. “He’s mine!” Everyone stopped moving then, the air silent and tensed. Grant wouldn’t look away from me, surprise written all over his face.

  “You don’t get to talk about him like that. You don’t get to make him feel even worse than he already is. You don’t think he apologized to me? You think he likes seeing me hurt? He doesn’t. And I don’t like it when he’s hurt. You don’t get to hurt him, Grant, because he’s mine, and if I say there isn’t anything to forgive, then there isn’t anything to forgive.”

  I struggled to calm my breathing, but it was made even more difficult with how firmly Jackson was holding me. I wiggled out of his arms, and perhaps he was surprised with my outburst because he let me go easily. “If you can’t accept that, then there’s the door.”

  I didn’t wait for a reply, instead, walking back upstairs and slamming the door to the master bed. Childish, maybe. I didn’t care. I sat down on the bed and hugged Jackson’s pillow to my chest as I decide whether or not I should just stay in this room for the rest of the day.