Fight or Flight

by Jamie Canosa

  “No! Enough. You tried, Jay. You tried and you failed. Just give it up.”

  “I’ll never give up on you. I love you.” Jay was lying in a heap on the floor cradling his ribs, still bleeding, and barely able to even lift his head, but the steel in his voice was undeniable.

  She needed to change that. Jay would never stop fighting for her. He’d never let her go as long as he thought she needed—or wanted—his protection.

  “No, you don’t. You love taking care of people, Jay. That’s who you are. And I loved the idea of being taken care of. It’s what I needed. But I don’t need it anymore. I don’t need you.” She knew what needed to be said—what would crush his heart, but save his life—even if it killed her to say it. “I don’t love you.”

  “That’s bullshit, Em, and you know it.” He ran a hand across his mouth and spit into the disturbingly large pool of blood beneath him. But the pain she was inflicting was a million times worse than anything her uncle had done. She couldn’t back down, though. Not now. Not when he was so close to being safe.

  “Screw you, Jay. I’m not your mother. I’m going home.”

  Her heart splintered into a thousand irreparable pieces as she turned her back on him. She barely even noticed as her uncle dragged her from the room, leaving behind a beaten, bloodied, and broken Jay. He’d never forgive her, but at least he would live to hate her.

  Chapter Forty-one

  Emerson

  The drive home was deathly silent. Her uncle didn’t say a single word to her as they left Jay, the squat, and the city behind. It was a thousand times more terrifying than if he’d screamed and yelled the whole way. Determined to avoid eye contact at all costs, Em spent most of the drive staring out the passenger side window. For a while, she pretended to sleep, but her senses never switched off high alert.

  When they pulled in the driveway, her heart sank. This was it. It was really over. Her life, her freedom, her escape was at an end. And it had all ended right back at the beginning. She should have known that this was the only way it could end. Maybe part of her did because she didn’t feel all that surprised. In fact, she didn’t feel much of anything except defeat. Defeat and a deep aching sense of loss.

  Her uncle ordered her to her room the moment they stepped inside and she silently obeyed, resigned to whatever would come next. She’d opened herself to unknown horrors the minute she’d left with him, but she refused to worry about them now.

  Jay, however . . . him she couldn’t stop worrying about. How badly was he hurt? Did he need help? Would he be able to find it? Above all, though, she worried about how badly she’d hurt him. Did he hate her? Would he ever be able to forgive her? Did it even matter? Would she ever see him again? That thought twisted her heart so sharply that she collapsed on her bed in physical pain and cried. She cried until her eyes were red and puffy. She cried until she could hardly breathe. She cried until her soul felt empty. And then she slept.

  ***

  When she woke early the next morning, for a few almost content moments she felt completely hollow, forgetting everything that had happened since the last time she had woken in that bed. An empty feeling she had grown accustomed to over the years and could handle, but then the memories washed over her and those hollow spaces started to fill with grief and sadness. The pain of finally having had something good in her life and then having it ripped away.

  A brisk knock came at her door. “Breakfast in ten.”

  With trembling fingers, Emerson gathered clean clothes from her dresser and slipped across the hallway to the bathroom. This time, the shower didn’t seem like such a treasure. She’d have given it up in a heartbeat to be waking up in some rundown crack house with Jay this morning instead.

  Ten minutes later, she was sitting quietly at the kitchen table while her uncle scooped eggs onto two plates by the stove. They still hadn’t spoken. Barely a word since they’d left the city, and if it were up to Emerson, it would stay that way.

  “Eat. You look like a walking skeleton. What will people think?”

  That you’re a sick, twisted bastard. How she wished she had the courage to spit the words in his face, but instead she filled her mouth with eggs. Useless coward. They were probably the most delicious thing she’d eaten in weeks, but now they only tasted like ash. She choked down a few bites before setting her fork aside.

  “I’m going to work. You will not set one foot outside this house, do you understand me? People know about the teenage rebellion crap you put me through these past few weeks. And you remember Dan?” His cop buddy from back in high school. How could she forget him? He was one of the main reasons Emerson had never had the courage to say anything to anyone. “He’s going to be driving by periodically to check on you. I’ll also be calling throughout the day. Every time that phone rings you will answer it by the third ring. If you don’t, I’ll be forced to leave work early to come home and check on you myself, and you’ll be forced to deal with the consequences of that. And believe me, there will be consequences, young lady. This crap has gone on long enough. From now on you will do as you are told and nothing else. Is that understood?”

  Emerson could only nod. Useless coward.

  “You start back at school next week and I expect you to look suitable by then, so finish those damn eggs.”

  Snatching his briefcase off the counter, he stormed out the front door and slammed it behind him. When she heard the lock click into place, Emerson’s laugh held no humor. She was inside the house; it wasn’t like he could actually lock her in. But it was symbolic. She was a prisoner in her own home with nowhere to go and no one to help her. She was alone. Again.

  ***

  Suddenly things were so much simpler. Food just appeared before her twice a day at breakfast and dinner without her even having to leave the house and it was always warm. The rest of the day, the fridge and cabinets were stocked with anything she could ever want, but now she could hardly bring herself to touch any of it. Just the idea of consuming anything of his made her sick.

  Days came and went, and she did as she was told, never leaving the house, answering the phone whenever he called. She spent most of her time alone in her room, lying on her bed just thinking. About Jay, mainly. Sometimes she’d slip into sleep still thinking about him and then she’d dream. Those were the best moments. Moments when it almost felt like he was there with her again. But they never lasted long.

  A puppy calendar hung on her wall beside the door. November’s picture was of a tiny dachshund playing in a pile of red and gold leaves. The beginning of the month was marked off in black slashes just like the rest of the calendar had been before it. Once she’d left her uncle must have continued to mark off the passing days, only in red ink instead. Each of those red marks was a sign of her rebellion, her insubordination. Things she needed to be punished for, to him. But to her, they marked something entirely different. To Emerson they represented her days of freedom, days where she could be who she wanted and love who she wanted. Without meaning to, he had highlighted the best days of her life for her to remember, instead of repent, as she was sure she was meant to.

  She’d stopped marking the days since she’d returned. They just didn’t seem to matter anymore. One was just like the next and nothing was ever going to change that. But when her uncle didn’t go to work, she knew it was the weekend and the time to go back to school was drawing near. She tried to care. Feel something about it. Nerves, fear, excitement, anything, but she just couldn’t. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

  ***

  When she arrived on campus in the morning, an aid would discreetly follow her into the building. If she failed to arrive for any reason, her uncle would be notified immediately. From there, each of her teachers had specific orders to report it at once if she didn’t show up for class on time and her uncle would be notified. She was forbidden to leave campus for lunch, or by any other means than her assigned bus, which she would be observed boarding at the end of the day as well.

 
Her uncle was aware of the precise time the bus was scheduled to drop her off and would be calling the house promptly to be sure she’d arrived. He would continue to call the house periodically like he had been for the rest of the day until he could get home from work to babysit her personally. All of this was told to her by a guidance counselor during a meeting she’d been forced to attend during the first class period of her first day back. They discussed the new rules and procedures she was expected to follow, the possibility of summer school, and all the harm her ‘little stunt’ had caused, but never once did anyone ask her why she’d done it.

  Class was the same as always. No one even knew she existed. She’d been gone almost a month and not one of her classmates even seemed to have noticed. The teachers did, but only so far as they’d saved up piles of work for her to get caught up on. She overheard the words ‘troubled teen’ being passed around, and one secretary even told her she should ‘cut her uncle some slack’ because ‘he’s doing the best he can.’ That woman she’d wanted to punch, but instead she’d agreed like the useless coward she was.

  Day after day, she followed all of the rules to the letter. She attended all of her classes, caught up on all of her work, and answered that damn phone every time it rang. And she waited. Waited for the inevitable.

  So far, her uncle had left her alone. Even when he’d been home all weekend, she’d managed to only see him at meal times. She knew it was too good to last, however. It was only a matter of time.

  ***

  The following Wednesday, Emerson knew her time was up when he called and told her he’d be home late that night. More often than not that meant he was going to the bar after work with some people. He didn’t need to be drunk to do what he did, but when he was it was like he lost all self-control. She couldn’t remember a single night in the past two years when he’d come home drunk and not come to her bed.

  For hours, Emerson paced her room, frantically trying to decide what to do. She could leave. Make a run for it again, but every time she considered doing it the sight of a police car rolling by outside, or the sound of the phone ringing would stop her in her tracks. She wouldn’t get far. And he’d already proven that he’d find her no matter what. If she ran again . . . No, she couldn’t. Useless coward.

  She could tell someone, but who would believe the ‘troubled teen’? Useless coward.

  That only left one option. To hide. Useless coward!!!

  The dresser in her bedroom was one of those old solid wood pieces, and it was heavy as hell. It took all her strength to shove it behind her door and that was before she put the full drawers back in. There wasn’t a chance he was getting in that room tonight. Of course, whatever the night’s reprieve cost her would probably be worse in the end, but she’d deal with that then.

  By the time the front door opened and closed downstairs, it was nearly three in the morning. He’d be plenty sloshed by then. When Emerson heard the creak of the third step—a sound that she hated and feared in equal measures—she dove into her bed and burrowed under the blankets. Please keep walking. Please don’t stop. Please.

  His footsteps echoed in the hallway outside the door and then—just as she knew they would—they stopped outside her door. No, no, no. Go away. Please, go away. Emerson buried her face in her pillow to muffle her sobs when she heard a light knock at the door. The knob turned with a quiet swish. All sounds she felt like she spent her entire life anticipating, dreading. Then came another sound. A different one. The loud bang of the door slamming into her dresser.

  “What the hell?” Another bang. And another. “Emerson, open this goddamn door right this instant! Do you hear me? Open. This. Door!”

  He continued to scream profanities and commands from the other side of the door, many of which were inaudibly over the continued banging of the door against the dresser. Emerson refused to move, willing her body not give into her mounting fear and do as he said, as he grew more and more irate. Not tonight, she just kept telling herself. Not tonight.

  It was after four-thirty before he finally gave up. Emerson was curled in a tight ball under the blankets with her hands pressed over her ears to ward off his endless threats. The silence that followed was at once the most peaceful and terrifying sound she’d ever heard. With every passing minute, she was only buying herself more and more trouble. Eventually it would catch up with her, but all she could do right now was get through this night. Not tonight. Then she could worry about tomorrow.

  ***

  When tomorrow came, she rolled over to look at her clock and found that it was almost eleven. He hadn’t even tried to wake her for school this morning. Emerson laid on her back, staring up at the ceiling and trying to decide if that was a good thing or a very, very bad thing.

  The house was silent. He normally would have left hours ago for work, but nothing about her life was normal. The dresser had served its purpose. He hadn’t been able to get into her room at all last night, but now what? She couldn’t just stay locked up in there forever. Her bladder was making that abundantly clear. Sooner rather than later, she was going to have to leave her bedroom fortress. There really didn’t seem to be any reason to delay the inevitable. With any luck, he’d be at work and she’d have the rest of the day to figure out what she was going to do.

  Pressing her ear to the back of the door, Emerson waited. Nothing. Only silence. That was about as good a reassurance as she was going to get.

  The dresser turned out to be just as big a pain in the ass to move away from the door as it had been to move behind it in the first place. By the time she’d gotten it far enough out of the way that she could open the door, Emerson was completely winded. That’s why she had no air left in her lungs to scream when the door flew open, catching her on the shoulder and sending her sprawling to the floor on her back.

  He was there. He was right there. In her doorway, glaring down at her. “How dare you? Who the hell do you think you are?”

  He stepped inside the room and Emerson scrambled back to her feet. “This is my house! Mine! How dare you try and keep me out of my own house?”

  Snatching her brush off of her dresser, he waved it in her face. “This is mine. All of it. I paid for it. Do you think any of this belongs to you? Do you?”

  “No.” Emerson’s shoulder throbbed and she continued backing away from him.

  “That’s right. I allow you to use all of this!” He punctuated his point by flinging the brush at her. It sailed past her head and collided with the mirror. Shattered glass exploded and a lancing pain sliced through her cheek.

  She took another step back and found she was out of space. The room was only so large and he was still closing in on her. Emerson pressed her back to the wall and held her breath. When he closed the gap between them, the look of rage on his face changed to something more resembling pity.

  “Didn’t I take you in when no one else wanted you? Haven’t I always taken care of you? Provided you with food and shelter and clothes and anything else you could need?” His voice was soft and smooth. “Haven’t I?”

  “Yes.” Hers barely registered above a whisper. Useless coward.

  “Then don’t you think it’s only fair that you repay some of that hospitality?”

  A sickening smile spread across his face as he reached out to run his fingers through her hair. Her entire body recoiled—pulling away from his touch—but with a wall pressing firmly against her back there wasn’t anywhere to go. He didn’t even seem to notice.

  Go away, she told herself. Leave this place. Don’t listen to him. Don’t think about him. Go back. Back to that day in the park when she sat under the tree with Jay. Back to the squat where she slept safely in his arms. Even back to that godforsaken bridge and the bitter cold. Anywhere was better than here. Anywhere Jay was, she’d be safe.

  “Now, why don’t we—”

  Whatever he’d been about to suggest was cut short by the peal of the doorbell resonating throughout the house. He looked as though he were considering ignorin
g it when the sound came again . . . and again. Frustration clearly written on his face, he pulled away from her.

  “Don’t you move and don’t even think about touching that dresser. Clean up this mess.” He waved an idle hand at the glass shards littering her floor before stalking out of the room and down the stairs.

  Emerson looked around frantically for any ideas. There was no way out. He was blocking the only doorway and the window in her room had been nailed shut while she was away. She’d already tried to pry it open . . . repeatedly. She could hide, but he would find her. He would always find her.

  Her mind was still reeling when voices reached her from downstairs. Two of them; both male and both angry. She held her breath and listened closely. When she heard her name, her heart leapt into her throat, and she flew out of her room, across the landing and halfway down the stairs.

  Chapter Forty-two

  Em

  “I’m here for Emerson.” His eyes drifted up the stairs to where she was still standing, stunned into immobility. This time when he spoke, it was directly to her. “I’m here for Em.”

  It took her a moment to reconcile this person standing on her doorstep with her memories of him. His hair was a little shorter, trimmed neatly around his face, and he was wearing new jeans and a heavy winter coat. But the moment he looked at her, anger and fear warring for control of his features . . . She would know Jay anywhere.

  She couldn’t remember telling her feet to take her the rest of the way down the stairs, but there she stood, just behind her uncle and staring at what could only be a dream.

  “You leave immediately or I will have you arrested for trespassing and attempted kidnapping.” Her uncle loomed over him, but Jay refused to budge. “And you . . .” he spun around to face her, “what did I tell you? Get your ass back upstairs right this instant.”

  Part of her quailed and begged to run back up the stairs and into her room, but she wouldn’t. Brave. Strong. Beautiful. Jay’s words echoed in her mind, drowning out her own self-doubts. Brave. Strong. Beautiful. She wasn’t a useless coward. Not anymore. Not with him there with her. With Jay there, she could be all of those things he’d said she was.