You Loved Me At My Weakest (You Loved Me #2)

by Evie Harper

  My parents both look to each other, then my mom steps toward me. “Don’t ever apologize for being lost or broken.”

  Tears sear down my face. They see straight through me. My mother’s eyes shine with hurt and it breaks my heart. I want to save them. But how can I save them from me when I can’t even save myself.

  I nod. “Okay.”

  My father embraces me once again and says, “My baby girl is home.”

  I wrap my arms around his neck and hug him hard, while meeting Kanye’s eyes.

  No, she’s gone. She will never be coming home.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Standing in my parents’ house feels surreal. I look around the large TV room and my eyes fall on the white floral sofas. Sofas I grew up on, watched cartoons on, ate junk food on, watched scary movies with friends on, during sleepovers. Floral sofas I thought I would never see again. I drag my fingers over one of the flowers. A lump forms in my throat. I swallow past it and look up to find three sets of eyes watching me. Each with worried, loving looks. Those emotions stab me in the heart. They loved Emily so much. I wish I could bring her back for them. But she’s buried too deep. Under cemented hate and evil words.

  “Honey, sit down and rest. You had a long flight.” Oh, my poor mother. I had more than just a long flight. I wonder which way she will go, denial now that I am here or wanting to know everything. I pray she goes with denial. However, that’s not my mom. She’s an amazing mother and wife. She will want to know it all, to shoulder the pain for me, but that’s not possible. I’m the only person who can carry around this darkness. Dirty, worthless whore.

  I take a seat on the sofa and my dad comes and sits next to me. I notice his once dark brown hair is now mostly light brown with peppered grey throughout. The lines on his face are more pronounced and his eyes are sad with dark circles. He stares at me as if seeing a ghost. I reach out and hold his hand. Growing up, he was always cautious of our friends and boyfriends. He was always the last awake locking the house up, protecting Jake and I. I don’t want him to feel like he failed. I want to pretend I’m fine so he can take the sadness out of his now permanent features. It’s killing me knowing he’s blaming himself for my kidnapping.

  “It’s okay, Dad. I’m good.” I try to give him a small smile, but I fail, so I press my lips together tightly, nod and try to convey the lie through my eyes, praying that’s enough for him to ease his pain.

  Kanye coughs and I look over to him. His eyes are narrowed on me. I could never get anything past Kanye. He’s the one person I already know trying to fool will never work.

  My mom pipes up and says, “Okay, I’ll start on the cottage pie and then I’ll whip up some chocolate frosted brownies. Both your favorites, Em.” She beams at me and I nod, widening my eyes in what I hope is excitement as my lips still refuse to show any kind of emotion.

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  After my mom heads into the kitchen, my dad stands, adjusts the waist of his pants in an awkward move and coughs.

  “I’m going to go and help your mom out.”

  He kisses my temple and whispers, “Glad my baby is home.” Then he leaves the room.

  As soon as my dad disappears, I look down at my hands. Rubbing my fingertips together roughly. I’m nervous to be alone with Kanye. He’s going to want to talk and I don’t know what to say. I know what my reactions will be; numb, uncaring words. Those emotions scare me, but I’ve been this way for so long now, I don’t know how else to be. Kanye deserves so much more from me.

  I look up at him and see him staring down at me. “Kanye,” I say softly.

  “I love you, Emmy,” he says quickly.

  My heart and chest collides at hearing the words I know my heart has been waiting for since Kanye and Jake saved me. My body freezes as I brace for the onslaught of need I have for this man, but I must reject, ignore and say no to them.

  Kanye sinks to his knees in front me. Our faces level. His feelings for me evident in his eyes, swirling like a tornado. I can’t just see how much he loves me; I can feel it. The air sizzles with his need to touch me. His hesitance showing with how he’s fidgeting with his fingers. Kanye’s eyes pierce into mine, begging me for some kind acknowledgement.

  “I thought I would never be able to say that to you again.”

  The stinging in my eyes now stops as I free my tears and they fall down my cheeks.

  His eyes grow soft at seeing my tears. Kanye grabs for my hands, but I pull them away. Hurt flashes across his features and my chest aches that I’m the one causing him this pain.

  “Please don’t... don’t be sad,” I say softly. I don’t want him hurting. I want to take all his pain away and make him forget he ever met me.

  “I can’t help it, baby. I finally have you back, yet you flinch away from me as if I’m going to hurt you.”

  I shake my head not wanting him to feel that way, but unable to explain the truth. He should be flinching away from me. He should be running away from my messed up life and me.

  “Emmy, will you come home? The house is still exactly the same apart from some mirrors and vases I had to replace.”

  Jake told me Kanye lost it and destroyed our house when he found out I was sold into the sex slave industry. How do I tell him I won’t be coming back home? It’s not mine anymore; it hasn’t been for five years. I wipe my face of the evidence that shows I care. I take deep breathes, build my strength and begin, “Kanye, that’s your home now. I-I don’t know what you want from me, but you and me, the us...” I pause, struggling with my words, “the us, we used to be, it’s gone now.”

  Kanye’s eyes glass over, but no tears fall. My heart shatters into a million pieces.

  “Emmy, you just need to take some time to adjust,” Kanye states softly, trying to convince me.

  I shake my head; he’s not understanding me. Fear crosses his features.

  “No, Kanye, you need to understand. I’ve changed and my feelings for you have changed.” Lie. “I will always cherish our time together, but you need to move on.”

  Kanye balls his hands into fists, clenches his jaw, and looks to the side. We stay frozen in this position and in silence for a long moment before he turns back around to me and fiercely says, “My heart is broken, Emmy, broken for having been without you for even a second in this fucked-up life God thought he had to test us with. But mostly, my heart is broken because I can see how much pain you’re in. I can never understand why you’re doing this to us, to me, but I love you regardless. I always will. Nothing you say will ever have me backing away from you. Moving on,”—he huffs out an annoyed laugh—“there is no moving on from you, Emmy. You are mine and I am yours. No matter how many nights apart we have endured and will endure, that will never change.”

  I shake my head furiously at his words, trying desperately to hide that his words almost bring me to my knees. They shake the foundation of my strength and numb exterior. I push back hard on the emotions wanting to burst free and show no emotion. Within me, my insides just burned me alive and turned to ashes. My heart along with it.

  My poor beaten and scarred heart. One moment's rest it begs from me. Touch him. Kiss him. Be with him. However, I can’t do that. For me to give it one moment of peace, I will be hurting someone I love too much. Kanye deserves so much more than the whore I have become.

  Kanye stands and steps back from me. His jaw clenched tightly, holding on to his emotions. Reach out to him. I can’t. Hurt him now and save him the pain later. And yourself, save yourself the heartache you know will come when he realizes how worthless you really are.

  “Emmy, I fell in love with you before I even knew what love was. And I will continue to love you until I’m old and senile and I forget what love is.” Kanye pauses, and this time a lone tear falls from my traitorous eyes. “I’m going to give you time and space. But I’m warning you now, Emmy; you are mine. I will be watching and waiting. I won’t lose you again. I will fight for you and if giving you space right now is fighting for you, then t
hat is what I will do. Just know when I feel the time is ready, I’m coming for you, for us.”

  My mouth slightly parts at his determined words.

  Kanye walks toward the front door, then turns to me.

  “I’m going to move my stuff out of our house. I’ll stay at Dom’s for a while. Move back home. I can already see how much faking you’re okay with your parents is affecting you. Go home and be yourself so you can try to heal.”

  With those words, he opens the door and leaves. I’m left staring after him thinking of a place I once called home. A house I once laughed in, had dreams of a family in. Going back there is going to be painful. But Kanye is right. Pretending to my parents every day is going to be too much for me. I can pretend I’m okay much better from a distance.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Dinner with my parents is awkward. During silent moments, my mom tries to fill with what’s been going on with the neighbors and my old friends for the last five years. Every friend who married and had a baby is like a knife to my heart. They’re brutal reminders of the years and happy memories I have lost. There will be no marriage, babies, or a happy ever after for me. That was ripped away when I was thrown down the rabbit hole, but not into a strange place, into a never-ending nightmare or worse, my nightmare ever after.

  I nod to my parents as they talk and smile over at me as if I am a miracle from God. I understand why. Their long lost daughter has returned. I wish I could be happy I am home, but everything around me reminds me of what I’ve lost, what was ripped away from me. My innocence, dignity and my soul. Scarred and irreparable, there’s no going back. I am a shell of a woman and I’m destined to sit across from the people I love, act interested and happy, and nod when all I can see are their faces taunting me. Telling me I’m used, telling me I’m worthless. I was once good enough for this family, but now I’m dirty, and if I stay, I will only stain them with my nightmare. I need to tell them I’m not staying here for more than one night. It’s best this way.

  “Kanye’s going to stay at Dom’s for a while so I’m going to move into his house until I can find something permanent,” I blurt out quickly before my mom can start talking again.

  My parents freeze with their forks hanging in the air, staring at me. I watch as they slowly process my words and their shoulders and hands start to relax.

  “Honey, that’s your house too,” my mom replies softly as she begins eating her food again.

  “Oh, um, yeah, I know,” I lie, not wanting to have this conversation with them.

  They both nod slowly, looking confused, but neither of them push me on the subject.

  “Always a room for you here, baby,” my dad states and resumes eating.

  After dinner, I head up to my old room and sit on the old single bed with the outdated purple comforter that matches the faded lilac-colored walls. The walls still hold the marks from where I stuck pictures up of Kelly Slater and Leonardo DiCaprio. I was obsessed with Romeo and Juliet. I would watch Leo and Claire die over and over again. I forced Kanye to watch it once. I was seventeen and my parents were with Jake at an away football game. I talked Kanye into coming over for the weekend. He was hesitant. Saying if my parents found him there when they were away, it would make proving to them he was good for me that much harder. But I was seventeen. I didn’t care about my parents. All I cared about was the love of my life, so I talked Kanye into it, and it turned out fine. My parents weren’t the type to come home early. They had timetables and routines they always stuck to.

  “Let’s head up to my room and watch ‘Romeo and Juliet’,” I say to Kanye. I stand from the couch and pull on his hand.

  Kanye groans. “Emmy, no way.” He yanks me down and twists us. Suddenly, I’m below him. “I’m not wasting a weekend alone with you watching a sappy movie where they die in the end.” He kisses me and I shake my head away from his lips, laughing.

  I gasp out in fake horror. “Kanye, that story isn’t sappy. It’s a life changing epic, love story. And they don’t just die! They die for each other. They couldn’t live without the other. It’s powerful and beautiful and you haven’t seen the Leo version yet. You’ve only watched the older version at school. This version has gunfights and explosions.” I stick my bottom lip out and beg him with my puppy dog eyes.

  He groans and kisses my pouty lips. “Goddamn it, Emmy, will a day come when I can ever say no to you?” He looks at me as if wanting a serious answer to the question.

  “God, I hope not. It would mean I’d have to start buying extra chocolate, extra ice cream and clean my own car.”

  Kanye laughs out loud and I take the opportunity to jump up from the couch.

  He smacks my ass and says, “Fucking too cute for your own good.”

  I wink at him over my shoulder and he jumps from the couch at me. I squeal and run up the stairs to my bedroom. I’m in my room when Kanye catches me and tackles me onto my bed. He tickles my ribs and I lose it and start laughing and snorting until no sound is coming from me, and my breathing starts to struggle. Kanye see’s my limit and stops. My chest rises and falls heavily as I catch my breath.

  A quick laugh bubbled up from my chest one last time and I push Kanye’s hands off my waist to set the movie up on my TV.

  After it’s set up, I walk back to my bed and see Kanye lying on his side with his hand holding his head up smirking at me. I smile back at him, wondering how I became so lucky to have him care about me. Love me.

  I lie in front of Kanye and curve my body into his. He pulls me in closer, kisses my neck, and wraps his arm around my waist and that’s how we stay through the whole movie.

  That’s how Kanye and I were all the time. So in love. We were always like that even up until I was kidnapped. We fought, but it was mostly jealousy. Kanye and I were both very jealous people. Our love was fierce and that fierceness leaked into our protectiveness over our relationship. We both knew neither of us would ever betray nor jeopardize what we had. But we also knew others were jealous of what we had and often tried to come between us. Despite that, we always came out stronger and on top. The Emily and Kanye team were the winning team as long as we were together.

  But not anymore. Kanye needs to realize that, and he will. If he gets too close, he will see just how defiled I am.

  I find some pajamas my mom must have left on the bed earlier. I change into the flannel pants and singlet top. Looking down at myself and then around the room, my stomach clenches. So much as changed in just a matter of days. I pray I don’t go to sleep to wake up and realize this is all just a dream.

  My mom chooses that moment to walk in and reinforces this is indeed reality and I am finally free. Well, of the guards and rules anyway.

  She smiles over at me and it’s a small smile. My chest tightens. She’s nervous and she should be. What she wants to know from me would send her to an early grave. That’s why I will carry my nightmares and memories with me until my dying day. No one can know what happened to me. No one can know I was raped, abused, demoralized, held to the brink of death and then brought back, all in the name of power, greed, and sick fuckers who could only get off if they were choking you while they fucked you. No one can find out just how truly bad it was.

  “Em, honey, can we talk?”

  I nod, not trusting my voice right now. I want to scream to the heavens how unfair my life is. Why me? Why did this have to happen? I want to crawl into my mother’s arms just like when I was a little girl and I had a bad dream. I want her to tell me everything is going to be okay. I want to call her mommy, have her kiss my temple, and rock me to sleep. But I can’t. I have to live with these feelings and thoughts—nightmares—for the rest of my life. Just that thought alone has me wanting to slice my skin open and crawl out of my body.

  We take a seat on the bed and she asks, “Can you tell me what happened, Emily?”

  My brave mother asks with a strong voice, yet the tears pooling in her eyes show the agony she fears will come with my answers.

  My palms sweat
as fear courses through my body. I want to tell my mother just enough to satisfy her need to find out how damaged I am. However, I’m scared my dam will break and I will destroy us both with my memories. I draw in a slow breath and start at the beginning. “A man said he was lost. He wanted to show me a map of where he was going and asked if I could show him where he was on the map. I went to his car and he pulled a gun on me. I ran but he caught up to me and hit me on the head with his gun.”

  My mother’s hand slaps over her mouth as she gasps. I take her hand away from her mouth as tears fall down her face.

  “It’s okay. I was seen by a nice doctor and only had a bruise from the hit.”

  What I don’t tell my mother is that I didn’t see a doctor at all and I was in and out that whole time. I have no memory of how I was taken to Columbia, who was with me or what was done to me.

  My mother gives a hesitant nods. I can see how desperately she wants to believe my lie.

  “Then?” Mom asks me gently.

  “I was taken to a man named Marco who told me he owned me and that I was the first piece in his collection. At the time, I had no idea what any of it meant, but I soon found out.” I pause, gauging how my mom is doing. Her eyes are slightly wider than a moment ago and her lips are pressed together. Her small hands balled into tight fists.

  “Around two months into my kidnapping, I met three women; Allison, Donna and Kelly. We were moved to a house in the Colombian jungle. Marco said it would be our home. Once a month, we were taken to a private location and put on a stage. We were auctioned off to the highest bidder for the night.”

  My mother stands from the bed and walks to my old empty dresser in the corner of the room. She holds tight to the corners and a cry is released from her lips.

  I stand from the bed, wanting so much to reach out to her, comfort her, but my hands stay firmly placed at my sides.

  “Mom, please,” I beg. “Please don’t be upset. Most of the time I wasn’t bought by anyone.” Lie. I was bought every time.