by Jamie Canosa
Had she sentenced Tori to the same kind of pathetic existence? Had her cowardice ruined yet another life? How would she ever forgive herself for—?
“Ohh, look at that!” Ashlyn’s ear-splitting screech saved Em from drowning in blame while, simultaneously, deafening her. She jumped up and down a little while pointing to a dress hanging on a mannequin. “That would look perfect on you!”
It was a really pretty—Wait. “Me?”
“Yeah. With your body and that cut, you’ll be beating them off with a stick.”
Besides the fact that having to beat anyone off with a stick was about as far from one of Em’s goals as it could possibly be . . . “I thought we were shopping for you?”
“Well, considering we’ve been sharing clothes. We’re shopping for both of us. I’m getting two new dresses today and you are wearing one of them tomorrow night.”
“Ash, I—”
“Come on, Em.” Ash put on her best pout coupled with those puppy dog eyes she knew how to work so well. It was completely unfair. “I’ve never seen you in a dress.”
That’s because Em didn’t wear dresses. Ever. “There’s a reason for that, Ash.”
The excitement drained from Ash’s face, leaving behind a tired sadness. “You can’t keep hiding forever, Em. You’re beautiful. No matter what you wear, people will notice. Don’t let him take that away from you.”
Em took a steadying breath. Ash was right. This was exactly the kind of thing she had to work on if she was ever going to overcome what her uncle had done to her. Each time she gave into the fear, the shame, she was giving him another victory over her. She was sick and tired of letting him win.
“Okay.” She swallowed hard. “Let’s do it.”
“That’s my girl. It’s your body, Em. Own it. Flaunt it.” Ashlyn disappeared into the store with a wink and a giggle that made Em feel slightly less nauseous as she followed her inside.
Ashlyn had great taste. The shimmering green dress looked amazing with her dark hair as Em twirled around the dressing room. It was what lay underneath that was the problem. The spaghetti straps and low plunging neck line showed an awful lot of skin. An awful lot of her.
“So what do you think?” Ash’s voice carried easily through the thin dressing curtain.
“It’s beautiful. I just . . .” The thought of taking a single step outside that dressing room, having stranger’s eyes on her like that, made her feel alarmingly exposed. Vulnerable. “I can’t, Ash.”
“Why not?”
“It’s . . . it’s too,” Em dropped her voice to a whisper, embarrassed to have anyone else overhear, “revealing.”
Ash was quiet and Em was afraid she’d hurt her friend feelings.
“Ash?”
No answer.
“Ash, I didn’t—”
“Try this.” A flurry of material came flying over the top of the curtain scaring the bejesus out of Em.
Startled, she had to scoop the article off the floor and shake it out. A mini cream colored sweater that fell to just above her waist. With the sweater buttoned up, she was completely covered while the dress still clung in all the right places, accentuating her curves nicely. Em smiled at her reflection. It was a compromise she could live with.
Shoes came next. Apparently, her sneakers wouldn’t cut it. Em eyed the peep toed heels dangling from Ashlyn’s fingers with no small amount of doubt. Not only was she likely to break her neck in those things, but they were going to a concert . . . where they’d have to stand most of the night. It suddenly felt more like Ash was trying to torture her than dress her.
“I like them and technically we’re buying them for me. Go try them on.”
Em couldn’t really argue with that. Or the fact that they looked amazing. The gold coloring matched the accents in the dress perfectly. It took Ash all of about ten seconds to declare it a done deal and seal Em’s painful fate.
She did just as an amazing job picking out her own outfit and Em enjoyed sitting back and watching her friend strut her stuff around the dressing room like some kind of fashion model. Ash must have tried on fifty dresses before finally settling on a midnight blue beauty that made her hair look almost platinum and her skin glow.
More than ready to be done for the day, Em was horrified when Ashlyn dragged her into a nail salon and insisted they both needed manicures. After putting up a pathetically lame fight, she gave in with a sigh, resigned to the fact that she wouldn’t recognize herself by the time Ash was satisfied.
***
She wasn’t wrong. The following night, wearing that amazing dress, heels, matching jewelry Ash had picked out, and of course, the sweater, with her nails freshly painted, Em didn’t recognize the girl staring back at her in the mirror. Ashlyn had spent hours making sure her makeup—something Em never wore—was perfect, and finagling her hair into some kind of fancy, yet casual up-do. The whole effect was . . . transforming. The girl in the mirror looked beautiful and confident.
More than anything, Em wished Jay could see her like that. But when the bell rang, it wasn’t Jay waiting on the other side of the door.
“Wow. You look . . . fantastic.”
Em smiled, shyly. “Thanks. Happy birthday.”
“Thank you.”
Mason was wearing his normal jeans and polo shirt and she was suddenly feeling overdressed. Until Ashlyn breezed into the room in all her breathtaking glory.
“Ready to get this party started?”
“You look beautiful, as well.”
“Why thank you, Mas. You look . . . the same.”
Mason laughed. “I’m a guy. We don’t generally dress up unless it’s for a wedding or a funeral.”
“Are those the rules?” Ash teased as she pulled on a lightweight sweater of her own.
“It’s in the guy book,” Mason assured her, holding the door open.
When they’d all piled outside, he stopped in the driveway glancing from his truck to Ashlyn’s car.
“What?” Em could understand Ashlyn’s annoyance at the delay. Mason may have his normal winter wear on, but they were freezing their butts off.
“Well . . . Downtown isn’t exactly the best area and my truck might draw a lot of attention. I thought maybe your car . . .”
“You thought my crappy car wouldn’t be worth stealing?!”
“Sort of.” Mason had the good grace to at least look sheepish over the suggestion.
Ash considered it for a second and then shrugged. “Probably. Fine, let’s take Harrison. But I’m driving.”
“No arguments here.” Mason climbed into the backseat, allowing Em to ride shotgun.
Polite, but not exactly the best arrangement when he was the only one who actually knew where they were going. Mason had to lean over the seat to point out turns to her, half of which Ash completely ignored. The two of them bickered for a solid twenty minutes and Em could have sworn they’d passed that gas station at least twice already. She had to bite her lip not to laugh out loud as their annoyance grew with one another. They sounded like an old married couple.
“Do you hear that?” Mason hushed Ash’s latest retort.
“What?” Ashlyn flicked the radio off and Em’s ears perked up.
“Pull over. I hear something. Your car’s making a weird noise.”
“What weird noise?” Ash sounded panicked. That car was her baby. Not to mention, her dad had just paid to fix the thing and she swore he’d kill her dead if anything else happened to it.
“I don’t know. Just pull over and I’ll check it out.”
Mason pointed out spot after spot as Ashlyn passed them.
“Anywhere will do, Ash. Where are you going?”
“I don’t know! I’m just trying to find . . .” She made a flustered left and pulled into an alley, turning off the engine with a relieved sigh.
Mason glanced around the poorly lit, vacant dead-end street they’d ended up on before shooting Ashlyn and exasperated look. “Could you have found a sketchier spot to park?�
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“You said pull over. I pulled over. Now go see what’s wrong with Harrison. And don’t come back until you fix it.”
Mason sighed and climbed out of the car. They watched from inside the warm interior as he did his best to check underneath without getting his pants dirty. He didn’t seem to be having much luck.
“Oh, for crying out loud, is he a guy or not?” Ash pulled her sweater tighter around her shoulders and got out with him. “What are you doing?”
“Looking.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know. I’m not a mechanic.”
Em couldn’t hold it in anymore. Laughing felt like a sin—with all the bad that she’d caused, what right did she have to be happy, even for a moment?—but the two of them made it impossible not to. By the time she joined them on the sidewalk, her sides hurt. “Isn’t that in the guy book? Good with cars. Right after don’t dress up?”
“Har-har.” Mason got down on one knee and hung his head to peer underneath again.
“Christ, Mason, I want you to fix him not propose to him. Get under there.” Ash waved frantically at the car while Mason scowled and tears welled in Em’s eyes from the hilarity.
Giving in to Ashlyn’s demands, Mason laid out flat on his back and scooted underneath for a closer look. The cold air bit through the thin layers of material shielding Em from the night as they awaited his verdict. Minutes ticked by and Em was beginning to wonder if he was actually doing anything under there, or just trying not to look bad. She was starting to feel bad for teasing him when the shadows around them shifted.
A group of three guys around their age—maybe a little bit older—were headed down the alley. Nerves on high alert, Em kicked Mason’s leg.
“What? I’m trying to—”
“Mason.” Something in her voice caught his attention and he shoved back out from under the car just as the men surrounded them.
“Car trouble?” The guy in front of Mason, wearing a green and white bandana tied around his greasy hair and a white hoodie nearly long enough to cover up the fact that his jeans were hanging halfway down his ass, folded his arms and settled back on his heels.
“We’re all set. Just leaving.” Mason tugged Ash closer to the car as one of the other’s stepped closer.
“Actually . . . you aren’t.” Green and white bandana smirked, untucking a handgun from the back of his belt.
“We don’t want any trouble.” Mason gripped Em’s elbow, pushing her closer to Ashlyn.
“Trouble isn’t what we’re looking for. Cash, cards, jewelry. Not trouble. So hand it over and we can all go on our way.”
“Okay. You got it.” Mason pulled out his wallet and passed it to the guy standing beside Ashlyn.
He wore a similar cliché get-up. Matching bandana secured over his scraggly blonde hair that turned up at his ears. Gray hoodie. No coats, despite the cold. His pants weren’t quite as loose fitting, though. These were the details Em’s mind chose to latch onto, ignoring the more frightening aspects of the encounter. Hands shaking, she unclasped the necklace and bracelet Ash had given her.
“What else you got?” The one with the gun seemed to be the spokesman for the group. Made sense.
“Nothing, man. I gave you my wallet. That’s it.”
“What about you?” He flipped the gun toward Ash and she yipped, tugging her clutch out from under her sweater and passing it off to her personal robber.
“You?” The gun turned her way and Em’s vision narrowed until all she saw was the barrel of the weapon pointed her way.
“She gave you everything.” Mason tried to step in front of her, but the third guy—the one Em hadn’t even realized had come up right beside her—shoved him away.
All she could see was the black sweatshirt that met her eye level, but she felt certain if she’d been brave enough to look up he’d be wearing the same kind of hair accessory as his friends.
“Where’s your purse, pretty?” His breath reeked of tobacco and alcohol.
“I-I don’t have one.”
“You wouldn’t be lying to me, now would you? Because that would be very, very stupid.”
“She’s not!” Ash’s cry went largely ignored.
“You got your cash in your pockets?”
“I d-don’t have pockets. O-or cash.”
“Is that so?” In one swift move, he spun her around and had her front plastered against the side of the car.
“Get off her!”
“She doesn’t have anything!”
Em could hear Ashlyn and Mason beside her, but they sounded very far away as her pulse roared in her ears. A steel band wrapped viciously around her chest and her heart went from racing to skipping beats entirely.
“Then it shouldn’t matter if we search her.”
Hot breath washed down the back of her neck and hands roamed over her body. Hands. Touching. Demanding. Holding. Hurting. Everywhere.
Em frantically searched her dark surroundings and the band cinched tighter, compressing the last of the air from her lungs when she realized who she was looking for. And that he wasn’t there. When a hand closed over her breast dark spots danced in her vision. Everything blurred as her head began to spin and her knees gave out.
“Em?”
“Hey, what the hell’s wrong with her, man?” The hands receded.
All of their voices seemed to be coming to her from underwater. She could barely make out what they were saying over the ringing in her ears.
“I don’t know. Em? Em, are you all right?”
“Yo, let’s get outta here, man.”
“I think she’s having a panic attack.” The sound of running footsteps overshadowed the concern in Ashlyn’s voice. “Come on, Em. Breathe. Come on.” Ash took a deep breath, and Em attempted to do the same. It was like trying to breathe through a straw. “There you go. Just like that. Again.”
Ashlyn held her hand while Mason stood over the two of them casting anxious glances down the sidewalk as Em fought to drag oxygen into her angry lungs.
Slowly, the air started flowing. In and out. In and out. The burning in her lungs eased, but her chest still ached from the strain.
Mason squatted in front of her, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind her ear. “Better?”
Em nodded, still not trusting her voice enough to speak.
“It’s okay, Em. They’re gone now. It was just a little money. Nothing to panic over.” He offered her a strained smile.
He didn’t get it. But, Ashlyn did. She squeezed Em’s hand, silently asking if she was all right. Em nodded almost imperceptibly, and followed on shaky legs as Mason led them back to the car.
This time Mason got behind the wheel, with no argument from Ash. She climbed in beside him, knowing without having to be told that Em would need her space.
“Did you guys still want to go to the show or . . .?”
Ashlyn glanced back at Em and shook her head. “I think we’d better just go home.”
“Okay.”
They sounded disappointed and though the guilt ate at her, Em couldn’t bring herself to argue. She had to go home. There was no way she could stand a crowd as big as a concert after what had just happened.
She barely made it through the front door before she started tearing off the soiled clothes. Dropping the sweater over the back of the couch, she shut her bedroom door before stripping off the dress and throwing it into the farthest corner along with the heels.
Em stood in the middle of the room, shaking, in nothing but her underwear when Ashlyn knocked on the door. “You all right?”
“Fine.” Em was proud of the fact that her voice didn’t waver. “Just tired. Long night. Thought I’d hit the sack early.
“You sure? Mason’s calling the police to file a report. Do you want to come out and talk to them when they get here?”
“No. I didn’t even have anything stolen. Besides your jewelry, but I’ll replace that. I—”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I got them o
n the sale rack at Macy’s. They aren’t worth anything. Don’t worry about it, Em. I’m just worried about you.”
Em steadied herself, cracked open the door, looked her best friend right in the eye . . . and lied. “I’m fine.”
Ash studied her face, looking for cracks, but Em held solid. Masks were something she’d always been excellent at.
Seemingly satisfied with what she saw, Ash nodded. “Okay. I just wanted to make sure with—”
“I know. Thanks. Mason’s right, I overreacted. I haven’t eaten much today and I think all the excitement just sent my brain into a tailspin for a second.”
“Are you hungry? We could—”
“Just tired, really.”
“Okay. Well, get some sleep. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”
“Good night.” Em barely got the door shut before she fell apart.
Hitting the floor hard, her knees were grateful for the carpeting. She buried her face in her hands to muffle the sobbing and tried to fight back the feel of his hands on her body.
A knock at the front door, voices in the living room, the squawk of a radio. Em stayed there, curled up on the floor, listening to all of it, afraid of getting into bed and falling asleep, terrified of what awaited her there.
At some point, after the house fell silent and Ashlyn shuffled off to bed, she dragged herself across the hall and into a scorching shower. Her skin reddened under the hot spray as she sat huddled on the floor of the tub, frantically scrubbing away his touch, but she made no move to get out until it had run cold. It was nearly four AM before she finally collapsed into bed, and almost immediately the nightmares dragged her under.