Irresistible Fear

by A. Meredith Walters

  Emily struggled against Charles’ grasp, finally breaking free and moved quickly down the hallway. “She is being such a bad daughter Charles. What am I going to do with her?” Emily’s mom ran after her, surprisingly agile for being so wasted, and caught the back of her shirt, stopping her short. Emily froze, feeling a deep rooted instinct for survival that was as primitive as it was debilitating. Emily’s mom came into her line of sight and she saw the anger burning in her mom’s gin soaked eyes. Emily felt the sting of her mother’s hand once, twice, three times.

  “Mom, I don’t mean to make you mad. I’m just not feeling up to it that's all.” Emily cringed at how tiny her voice sounded. Her mother could turn her back into that scared little girl quicker than anything else could. “You are an ungrateful little bitch is what you are!” Emily’s mother screeched at her. Charles put his hands on her shoulders, threads of pure terror unfurled in the pit of her stomach at his touch. “Don’t be so harsh Sylvia. I think you’re too hard on her.” Charles’ breath was warm on her neck. Emily couldn’t take it anymore; she wrenched away and stumbled back towards the stair case.

  “You get your ass back here! Now Emily!” Emily felt her mother’s hands grabbing at her again and as she pulled back, she lost her footing and fell halfway down the stairs. “Don’t you embarrass me in front of my friends!” Her mother screamed. Emily looked around her and saw at least twenty people watching them, all too strung out or too indifferent to intervene.

  Emily’s mother punched her in the stomach, dropping her to the floor. “Get up you worthless bitch!” Her mother went into frenzy, kicking and hitting her all over her back and abdomen. Emily felt vomit rise in her throat with each fresh assault. She attempted to control the urge to throw up. Emily lay on the floor and took it, too scared to do much else. This went on for what felt like forever until her mother finally stopped. Emily looked up and saw her mother stop to light a cigarette. Emily saw it as her chance and jumped up and raced towards the front door. She had to get out of here. Her mother was in rare form tonight and she didn’t know if her mom would stop at just beating her this time.

  Emily lived with the constant fear that her mother would one day go too far. She then berated herself for not telling anyone about this sooner. Her mother was humiliating enough, but the shame of her abuse and imagining the looks of pity on everyone’s faces was almost too much to bear. Besides, on some warped level, Emily loved her mother and didn’t want to lose the only family she had left.

  “You aren’t going anywhere, god damn it!” Emily’s mother slammed into her and put her hand flat against the door, holding it shut. “Please mom, just let me go.” Emily’s tired pleading fell on deaf ears. “You aren’t going anywhere I said!” Her mother’s voice was rising and it seemed to drown out the sounds around her. Emily pulled on the door knob, trying to get the door open. Her panic was making it hard to breath and Emily was afraid she would pass out.

  Her mother slapped her again and Emily’s eyes watered with the sting of it, her teeth crunching together. Emily knew she had chipped yet another tooth. Emily felt a surge of adrenaline and yanked the door open. She ran into the yard. The couple who had been sitting on the porch were now gone, Emily noticed. So odd that she always became aware of the most random details in moments like this.

  Her mother’s erratic yelling followed her out into the yard. Emily crouched down into the grass and brought her knees to her chest. She felt as if she were folding in on herself, trying to make herself so small that her mother wouldn’t bother with her. She was a little girl again, attempting to shield herself from her mother’s blows.

  “Hey!” A voice yelled from across the street. Emily looked up to see an elderly man standing on the side walk. “Stop your yelling! I’ve already called the police!” Emily stood up abruptly, her mother started cursing at the man and people started streaming from the house in a mass exodus. Emily took her mother’s arm and pulled her back to the house. “Stop it mom! You’ll make it worse. The police are coming, pull it together.”

  Her mother thankfully shut up and allowed herself to be led back into the house. The last of her mom’s shady friends were leaving. All of her mother’s anger had dissipated and Emily could hear the sirens as they quickly approached her house. Emily saw her reflection in the hallway mirror. Her eyes were blood shot and tears stained her cheeks. But Emily noticed that, like always, there were no visible marks left by her mother’s attack. Even the redness from her mother's hand was quickly fading.

  Her mother crumpled onto the couch and began to sob dramatically. “Oh Emily. I’m such a bad mom. I’m so sorry.” She looked up at her, mascara dripping down her face, making her look like some sort of diabolical clown. “You won’t tell them will you? I can’t go to jail. I’ll kill myself Em! I mean it! You don’t want to be an orphan do you? That’s what’ll happen if you tell them!” Her mother’s voice became hysterical as they heard the loud knock at their front door.

  Emily looked from her mother to the door. She wanted to tell the police officers on the other side of the door. Her mother deserved it! Why should she continue to protect this horrible woman? This woman who had abused and tortured her for as long as she could remember? She watched as her mother began to babble incoherently and tried to grab her daughter’s resisting hand. Why shouldn’t she tell them the truth? Maybe her mother could finally get the help she needed.

  But as she stood there, looking at her mother’s withered face she knew she wouldn’t do it. Call it conditioning, call it stupidity, she just couldn’t turn her mother in. Even though it would save her further nights like this, she couldn’t shake the fear that her mother’s words were true, that she would try and hurt herself. Though part of her knew that this was just another emotional manipulation, it didn’t change her decision.

  So Emily leaned over and smoothed her mom’s hair away from her face. “Stop it mom, just calm down alright.” Emily felt her mom clutch her arm. “Oh thank you Emily. I just can’t go to jail! I couldn’t handle it!” Emily shushed her mother and kissed her forehead, the acrid smell of sweat and alcohol fused together in a pungent perfume. She then turned and walked to the door, preparing to lie yet again.

  Chapter 13

  Emily sat on the worn checkered sofa as two police officers talked with her mother in the kitchen. Emily tried not to drown in her own mortification. How many times was that this year that the police had been called to her house? Three, four times? How many times had Child Protective Services knocked on their door because of a call of concern?

  She heard the drone of voices waft down the hallway. She already knew the story her mom was feeding them. Whenever this happened, her mom always covered up the truth with an outrageous story of teenage rebellion. Emily would be painted as a “wild child,” unruly, out of control. Emily’s mother would either tell them that she had broken curfew or had come home drunk. Emily laughed at the irony there. Then her mom would begin to cry, bemoaning her lot at having to deal with such an ungrateful child. She just didn’t know what to do. Hurt her baby? Never! She may get angry and raise her voice but she’d sooner die than lay a hand on her daughter.

  And like all the others, they listened to her story. Mostly because they didn’t want to have to deal with the town drunk and her daughter, that was just more paperwork. Emily didn’t think they ever truly believed her show of maternal devotion, but if they didn’t, they kept it to themselves. They would then talk to Emily about listening to her mother and threaten juvenile detention. Same old song and dance each and every time. Then they would leave. And Emily would be left to deal with her mother, who would either be horribly vicious or a blubbering lunatic. Either way, it sucked.

  Emily wrapped herself in the afghan thrown over the back of the couch. The faded blues, yellows and reds a mismatch against the sickly green checks of the sofa. Emily fingered the rough fringe. Emily’s great-grandmother, her Nanny, had sewn this afghan when Emily’s mother had married her father. When Emily was a little girl
, she would wrap herself in this blanket and imagine that the threads were created with all her Nanny’s love and happiest memories. Nanny had survived the death of her own daughter, Emily’s grandmother, before Emily had been born. Nanny was a strong lady, made with a strength that she had passed on to her great granddaughter but seemed to have skipped Emily’s mother all together.

  Nanny had understood the treatment Emily experienced at the hands of her eldest granddaughter. Treatment that fluctuated between brutal to negligent. Nanny would see the patchwork of bruises on her back and the burn marks on her legs. It had killed Nanny to admit the failings of her granddaughter as a mother.

  Emily had stayed with Nanny every summer. From the time she was old enough to walk up until two summers ago when she passed away suddenly of a heart attack. Nanny had owned a small cape cod in Currituck County, North Carolina. She was a ten minute car ride to the beach and walking distance to the sound. Those summers were magical. They held every precious memory Emily had in her short recollection.

  Emily threaded her fingers through the gaping holes that had worn into the material and pictured her Nanny’s cozy brick home that always smelled faintly of wood smoke, cloves and cinnamon. Emily remembered the immediate comfort that smell brought her. When she would return home at the end of the summer, she wouldn’t wash her pillow case for weeks, just to savor that smell.

  Once Emily began to think of her Nanny it inevitably brought with it, less pleasant memories. The nagging bitterness at her great grandmother’s inability to save her from this life. Why hadn’t Nanny taken her into her care permanently and not just three months out of the year? Her Nan had heard Emily’s stories, told in a young and fearful voice.

  When Emily was old enough to recognize her great grandmother’s constant guilt, she mustered up the courage to ask Nanny to adopt her. Emily’s chest tightened as she relived that painful realization that Nanny would only intervene so much. Emily had had to suppress the horrible feelings that created. Those wonderful summers were the best parts of her child hood and if they were to stay that way, Emily had to forgive her Nan and swallow the anger and betrayal that had threatened to wash that love away.

  Anticipation of Nanny’s summers were what got Emily through the other nine months of the year. She couldn’t let her time with Nanny, as precious as it was, to be soiled by anything, even her own bitter disappointment. So she had forced herself to be okay with it and to continue to love her Nanny despite it. And when Nanny had passed away, entirely too soon, Emily had mourned her passing as if she had lost her real mother.

  Emily noticed several cigarette burns in the woven wool. Emily gingerly picked up the blanket and examined it closer. The once vibrant orange was now stained with brown and black smudges and the white loops had long since dulled to a dingy gray. Emily felt her fists clench and she had to struggle to keep control of her anger. Her mother ruined everything, even a simple blanket.

  It was then that she realized that someone was watching her. Her eyes met the startling blue of a young police officer who had entered the front door. Even in her emotional state, Emily could appreciate his rugged good looks. His dark hair curled around his ears and she could see the hint of dimples in his cheeks. But it was his eyes that really held her attention. They were unsettling in their familiarity. They were an odd color, an almost colorless blue, what she could have imagined ice caps to look like. Where had she seen him before? Or more specifically, those eyes?

  She looked away from him and stared into her lap. She knew he was standing beside her before she even looked up. “Ma’am, I’m Officer Bekker. I need to ask you some questions.” His voice was soft, yet with a deep timber. He barely spoke above a whisper, as if she were a skittish animal that would bolt at any moment. She looked up into his eyes again and felt strange, almost light headed. Why was he so familiar?

  Officer Bekker sat down on the sofa beside her, respectful of her personal space, but close enough that she could feel the heat of him. Emily felt him study her and she knew she must look a mess. She resisted the urge to straighten her hair. God, she was ridiculous. She was being questioned by the police after being punched around by her mother and she was worried about her hair. Get a grip, she told herself harshly.

  Officer Bekker put his hand on hers. Emily jerked in surprise. It wasn’t just that it was a completely unprofessional gesture on his part, it was the physical sensations she experienced as his skin made contact with hers. His touch felt like fire, a steady pulsing of electricity that seemed to shoot up her arm. His eyes warmed and he leaned toward her. Emily distantly realized that this was getting extremely intimate but she was inexplicably drawn to this stranger and she felt the urge to unload everything that was bottled up inside of her.

  “Your neighbor called because he could see you and your mother fighting in the front yard. It was reported that there was a lot of yelling. Tell me what was going on here tonight.” His voice remained quiet and Emily had to strain to hear him, even though she was sitting right next to him.

  As much as she wanted to tell him the truth, the rational part of her brain, or was it the irrational part, didn’t want the unavoidable complications that would result in her confession. So instead of telling him about the bruises that were painted on her abdomen and the daily ridicule and abuse she experienced, she gave into the lie. “I was late for curfew, my mom got mad. We yell at each other a lot.” Emily feigned an indifferent shrug.

  For the first time she knew that the person hearing her story didn’t believe her. She felt a flutter in her stomach. “Are you sure that’s what happened?” Officer Bekker squeezed her hand and looked deeply into her eyes. “You can tell me what went on tonight. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.” The thing was, Emily believed him. When he said those words, Emily instinctively knew he would move heaven and earth to keep her safe.

  This was becoming almost too much for her. Emily wanted to stay with this man, but she made herself move away from him and look out the window, away from the penetrating gaze of those unusual blue eyes. “I told you my story. There’s nothing more to tell.” Emily’s voice became chilly.

  Officer Bekker was silent for a long time. Emily finally looked back at him to make sure he was still there. He continued to stare at her but his expression was... hurt? Disappointed? None of this was made sense and she was feeling overwhelmed. “If you don’t need anything else from me, I’d really like to go to bed.” Emily stood up and put out her hand to shake Officer Bekker’s. He seemed unsettled by the abrupt ending to their conversation but cordially shook her hand, setting off another series of tingles over her skin. He sought to capture her gaze again but she refused to meet his eyes. “If that’s all you say happened, then that’s what we will put on record.” “Thank you.” Emily mumbled as she made to move past him.

  “Emily.” He spoke her name softly, almost a breath. Goose flesh poured across her arms and neck. She knew him. She just couldn’t figure out how. It was on the tip of her brain, a tease of memory. Emily stopped on her way out of the living room but didn’t turn around. She could sense him standing directly behind her, watching her.

  “Sleep well.”

  And when she turned around, he was gone.

  Chapter 14

  He was drowning. Suffocating in her smell, her voice, her presence. He had for a few moments in time looked at her through human eyes. Touched her with mortal skin. He wasn’t the shadow out of the corner of her eye, but a living and breathing man. Sure he had to overtake another’s body to do it; but the memory of her tears erased any doubt about his actions tonight.

  She had been truly devastated. He could see her memories and saw clearly what had happened. Her mother had roughed her up and it had gotten really scary for her. He could see the instant in which she hadn’t known whether she would live or die. And as with everything, Emily felt this so intensely it radiated from her.

  He should have greedily anticipated her dreams tonight. Knowing that he would be satiated b
eyond anything he had ever experienced. Instead he felt her sorrow, her fear and he had inexplicably wanted to take those feelings from her.

  When he had touched her, it had shaken him to his core. She was so beautiful in her tragedy and as drawn as he was to her emotions and her life force, he was as equally drawn to her humanity and basic goodness. He couldn’t understand what it was about this slight girl that was able to change the fundamentals of who he was. He was a demon, yet he was learning to feel things that should have been beyond what he ever thought himself capable of. And it was because of her. Maybe it was coincidence or perhaps it was fated. He didn’t know. He only knew that she touched him in a heart he didn’t know he had.

  He was heading down a dangerous path. He had been unable to feed off her for the last two nights. And now he had possessed a living soul to be near her. He was obsessed with the idea of her seeing him and knowing who he was. Would she believe him? Would she collapse under the terror? Was it worth the risk of losing himself? He was in a constant personal battle, not sure of how to proceed. He was becoming weaker and he could feel it. It was gradual for his kind, a slow decline until he was gone, snuffed out like a candle.

  As he left her house in his borrowed body he began to feel the anticipation. Not for the feed, but for the chance to see her again. Tonight he would do it; he would let her see him and whatever came because of it he would just have to deal with it.

  As he slipped out of the police officer’s body, the demon inside of him craved the aura that hung around the man. He needed to eat but he couldn’t as long as he was attached to Emily. If he didn’t drink from her, he wouldn’t be able to drink at all. He was with her until she died. But as he drifted off into the Abyss to wait for Emily, he wondered for what felt like the 100th time whether it would be her death, or his.