Broken to Pieces

by Avery Stark

  Her voice trailed off. Adam, with his hands still pinning her to him, could feel the fight leaving her petite body. The muscles in her back started to relax and the shallow breaths that she had been taking began to slow down. The change was subtle, but he knew that she couldn't go on like that for much longer.

  Father Hall jerked the car door open, threw himself inside, and fumbled with the keys that he had left in the ignition.

  In a heartbeat-a fleeting blink of an eye-he was gone.

  When the car disappeared from sight, Emily slipped through Adam's arms and took off down the road, her bare feet slapping down into the hard earth. Tiny pebbles stabbed and ripped dozens of little cuts on her tender flesh, but she didn't feel a thing.

  Not far behind, Adam was following and calling her name.

  By the time that he got close enough to grab her arm, they were almost off of the property completely.

  "Emily," he hollered and wrapped his fingers around her thin wrist when she swung it back mid-stride, "please stop!"

  When their skin met, Emily felt like she had been slammed into a brick wall. It was only then, as his finger tips dug into her flesh, that she started to come back out of the haze of her anger and stopped dead in her tracks.

  They stood there, each one of them breathing heavily, as a hot wind rolled past and made the surrounding wild flowers dance around them.

  "What," Adam gasped and brushed some of the scraggly hairs out of his face, "what was that?"

  She didn't answer.

  "What did he do to you?"

  Emily turned around slowly. Her red cheeks were smeared with Father Hall's blood and her usually bright eyes were red and swollen. The corners of her lips had dried out and, on top of the blood, a thick layer of dirt was caked to her otherwise soft face. Cutting through all of it were long, clean trails of skin that led from her eyes to her chin where her tears had wiped away the grime.

  "He," she stammered, "he…"

  Adam turned her hand over. All four of her top knuckles had been torn open and were slowly weeping blood onto his hand.

  "You can tell me."

  Emily lowered her head for a moment and considered her next words carefully.

  "Rape," she forced the word through her soiled lips. "He raped me."

  The word alone was like a punch to the gut for the young artist. In all of his time at the Inn, all of the time that he had spent with her, never once did imagine that the beautiful girl standing in front of him had been so deeply scarred.

  He suddenly felt immensely guilty for assuming anything about her. Then, as he stood and watched her start to cry, it felt like his heart was going to break. He knew how it felt to lose everything; how badly it hurt to see your life crumble before your eyes. What was worse, he knew damn well that there was nothing that he could say or do to make the young woman's pain go away.

  He pulled her in and pressed her face against his chest.

  "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

  Chapter 5

  July the second dawned over the quiet Chickweed Inn with a slight glimmer of things to come. By five that morning, it was already a muggy 70 degrees and climbing. The shimmering beads of dew that normally spotted the landscape had evaporated into the air, making it thick and heavy.

  Earlier, before the sun had managed to peek its golden head above the horizon, Emily was woken by a passing wren and her own restless conscience. And while the bird's high-pitched warble was often a welcome noise, it did little to soothe the girl's tired heart.

  Emily, dressed in a pair of denim shorts and a wrinkled, pink tank top from the day before, rolled out of her bed and smoothed her hands over the hair that had been pushed up by her pillow. When that was done, she struggled to twist the loose shirt back into the right position. It was wrapped around her like a cotton candy spiral, put there by the lack sleep that tormented her ever since the accident. Every time that she closed her eyes, Emily swore that she could hear the Sherriff muttering through his tears:

  They're dead.

  Once she knew that any more sleep was impossible, Emily slipped her bare feet into a pair of sandals and crept silently onto the back porch. Though her steps were light, it was hard to avoid the countless squeaky boards that wrapped around the Inn. Their groaning sighs announced Emily's presence to the deserted expanse spreading out behind the house, to which the only response was the crickets' chirping cadence.

  Emily walked half way down the stairs then sat so that her elbows rested on the very tops of her knees. From there, she lowered her head down and cradled it in her arms. Within seconds, small beads of sweat formed just above her eye brows as her heavy breaths mixed with the already moist air.

  The tender, swollen skin above her knuckles stung sharply as she clenched both hands into fists and rested them on the back of her tangled hair.

  "What a mess," she sighed.

  Amidst all of the turmoil and loss, Emily didn't know how she was supposed to feel. Should she be angry? Bitter? Outright pissed? It was almost impossible for her to control all of the emotions running through her head. She had been thrust into the world, alone and scarred. Every bit of support was gone and she didn't know which way she was supposed to be going, let alone if she could even do it by herself.

  Emily ran a finger under her eye and caught a single tear on the tip of it. It sat on top of her smooth nail for a second before rolling off and splattering onto the wood below.

  "Ahem," a voice came through the fading dawn and made her almost jump right out of her own skin. She jerked her head up and turned around.

  "Adam?"

  "I'm sorry. I wasn't, I mean, I didn't-"

  "Oh it's okay. I just couldn't sleep. Have a seat if you want."

  Emily moved over, allowing him to walk down the steps and sit just below her feet.

  "You were too hot, too?"

  She ran her fingers through her loose hair and looked out at the purple sky.

  "Yeah."

  It wasn't exactly the truth, but Emily decided that just agreeing would be easier than trying to explain what was really going on.

  The pair sat on the steps silently, though the lack of words was mostly lost of them. They stared out over the increasingly bright vista and watched patiently as the virgin light of morning spilled out through the trees to the East and spread out over the fields in all directions. With it came a gentle breeze that carried the sweet, warm air by in fits and spurts. Mixed in with it was just a vague hint of the pine trees further up in the mountains.

  Adam fiddled with the portable electric razor concealed in his hands and closed his eyes. By then, the sun's golden rays were creeping up the stairs like snakes. They slipped up over his socks, then his legs and then continued up until they fell on his scruffy cheek with a welcome heat. As he sat there and ran his thumbs over the razors plastic attachment, he couldn't help but think that he could feel the twisted mix of pain and frustration radiating off of the young woman seated next to him. After that came the shame of knowing how severely he had underestimated the secrets that her past contained. But how could he have known? Who would have ever assumed such awful things about a sweet girl like her?

  "I was wondering if you could do me a favor."

  "Maybe," Emily looked over at him with bloodshot eyes. "What did you need?"

  Adam held out the trimmer.

  "Would you cut my hair off?"

  Emily raised an eyebrow and took the small device from him. She almost didn't want to do it. His long, shaggy hair was cute in a rugged way and she had admired it from the moment that she laid eyes on him.

  "Why do you want me to do that?"

  Adam tousled his mop and answered, "I can't take it anymore. I don't know how you girls do it all the time."

  Emily rolled the smooth barrel over her palms.

  "I don't blame you."

  When Adam's shoulder brushed up against Emily's, it took all that she had to keep from grabbing onto him and demanding more. Everything about his
touch was so soothing that even the passing caresses that would normally go unnoticed for any other person made Emily forget all of her troubles.

  "Just take everything off," Adam said.

  "No problem."

  Emily set down the razor and ran her hands through his hair, allowing every nuance of his scalp to glide slowly beneath her finger tips. His hair was soft but slightly curly and that made the ends tie themselves up into little knots. She stayed that way for a little while, massaging his head and straightening out the wily hairs as best as she could.

  "So you never really did say where you are from."

  "Oh," he leaned back toward her ever so slightly, "that's a complicated question."

  "Well can you give me a complicated answer, then?"

  Adam paused and considered the question carefully. The answer to it was not an easy one to articulate.

  "I guess that I don't really consider anywhere a home. I really do like it in New York, but if something came up and I had to leave, it wouldn't break my heart or anything."

  "Oh," she responded simply. The thought of living that way was absolutely alien to her and there was little that she could do to relate to him in that respect.

  She gathered his hair up and flopped it back and forth between her hands. Both of them knew that she was delaying the process to give them more time to talk but neither one minded at all.

  "What about your family? Where do they live?"

  The ugly truth about the people who shared his blood made the young artist cringe. Even from behind, Emily could read his body language perfectly.

  "Are they that bad?"

  "Yeah," he sighed.

  Emily instantly felt guilty for asking.

  "I'm sorry. We don't have to talk about that."

  "No," he said with a shrug and tipped his head back so that she could wrangle a few more pieces of his dark hair, "it's okay. My mom is dead and my dad-"

  He couldn't think of a single truthful thing to say about him that wasn't awful.

  "-is still alive."

  "No brothers or sisters?"

  He held up a finger, "One, actually. One little sister. Haven't seen her in years, though. You're an only child, aren't you?"

  "Yes," Emily replied and let the bundle of hair tumble back down into his eyes. "Are you sure about this?"

  "Of course."

  Emily snatched the razor off of the porch and clicked it to life. It rattled and shook her hand down to the bone, but in a tickling sort of way.

  The plastic teeth that she had been toying with earlier easily slipped through row after row of hair, moving from the very front down to the nape of his neck. Huge chunks of his still knotted locks floated down and littered the surface of everything within a foot or two, including the tops of Emily's toes.

  Tex, though he was usually not sneaky, managed to creep up on them under the cover of the razor's loud buzzing.

  "What in heavens is going on out here?"

  Emily looked over and was met by the sight of his freshly-shined boot. Above that, the old man was decked out in a faded pair of jeans and a loose, button-down shirt that had been tucked in very poorly. The entire back flap hung out over the pants and billowed in the hot breeze.

  "Yeah," Gary piped up from behind him. "What are you guys up to?"

  "Adam here is sick of his mop," she dusted off the top of his head and continued to run the tool across his scalp.

  "I don't blame ya," Tex patted his round belly. "But I think that a sandwich sounds a whole hell of a lot better right about now. A drink and a sandwich; have mercy!"

  "I can fix you guys something if you want."

  Gary finally stepped out from behind Tex's shadow. He looked like he hadn't slept in weeks. The normally pink hue of his eyelids had been transformed into a stark shade of red that was a little shocking.

  "That's quite all right, Miss Emily," Tex said. "Besides, you can't leave Adam here with his hair looking like that."

  She glanced over to his partially-shorn scalp and snickered, "No, I guess not. Does anyone else need a trim while I'm at it?"

  Gary rubbed his forehead and responded, "I don't have much left, young lady. I think that I'll be holding onto what I've got!"

  "Same here," Tex agreed. "Say, you don't mind if we borrow the truck, do you?"

  Taking a short break from her work, Emily leaned back on her palms and let her legs close just enough so that they brushed up against Adam's naked shoulders. The hair clippings that had been left behind tickled the sensitive skin on the insides of her knees.

  "That sounds fine to me…but where is Barbara?"

  "Oh," Gary said, "she took our car to go to some knitting thing late last night. I'm still not really sure, to tell you the truth."

  He rubbed his pointed chin and continued, "You two are welcome to join us for lunch."

  Before Emily could answer, Adam replied, "No thanks. I wanted to show Emily some of my work."

  She was as surprised as they were.

  "You do?"

  Adam looked over his shoulder at her and smiled.

  "Yep."

  "Well that seals it, then," Emily laughed. "We will see you boys later on. Drive safe."

  With a tip of Tex's hat, the two men retreated back into the house and let the wobbly screen door slam shut behind them.

  Emily continued her work in silence, with her tongue clamped between her lips, for several more minutes before she was satisfied with the job. When she was, she tossed the razor back onto the porch and used both hands to dust off the piles of hair that covered Adam's shoulders.

  "So what's all this about showing me your work?"

  When Adam reached up to touch her leg, Emily almost fainted. As if in slow motion, his warm fingers inched closer until they were only centimeters above her quivering knee. Then, just before they finally made contact, her breath stopped dead in the middle of her throat. To know he was showing her affection, even in the slightest way, was like coming up for air after almost being drowned.

  His hand closed around her shin and he gave a gentle squeeze.

  "You don't mind a little bit of a hike, do you?"

  Emily reached out and playfully stroked the prickly layer of hairs now crowning his head.

  "Sure. Why not?"

  —

  It was a long trek to reach where the open field surrounding the Inn ended and the thick cover of the forest took over. Along the way, the high day sun beat down on the Virginia country side with ruthless precision. Temperatures were well over a hundred degrees that day with a slightly humid kick that made it almost unbearable.

  I hadn't planned for this, Adam thought silently as he guided Emily to his secret spot in the woods. The whole way, he could hear her trudging along behind him with soft huffs and puffs. Even that was cute when she did it.

  Neither one of them spoke until they reached the shade of the full trees that beckoned them.

  "This weather is unbelievable," he groaned and sank down against one of the thick trunks. "Is this normal?"

  Emily walked over the last few unguarded feet.

  "No," she wiped her glistening forehead with both palms. "I've never seen anything quite like it."

  "Do you want to take a break for a little bit?"

  "Oh man, yes."

  She crouched down next to him, careful to avoid the dirt below from becoming attached to her glistening legs.

  "So what have you been painting up there anyway? I can't imagine that there's much to see."

  Adam reached into a small bag that had been slung over his shoulder and pulled out a massive bottle of water.

  "I guess it's kind of like how we tend to not appreciate the things right in front of us," he said and followed the statement with a big gulp of water.

  As eager as she was to take a drink of the cool liquid, his comment made her stop and wonder if he knew about the feelings that she was starting to have for him. Or had he been talking about himself? Maybe it had nothing to do with either one of them at
all.

  It must be the heat, she thought to herself.

  "Maybe you're right."

  Adam passed the bottle over and replied, "It has been known to happen on occasion."

  Emily smiled right at him just before she closed her eyes and knocked back almost a quarter of the bottle in one drink. The icy water rushed down her throat and was so cold that it made her shiver noticeably. She could feel it slipping down through her chest and into her empty stomach.

  Through all of it, though it was only a few seconds, Adam watched her intently. The way that she smiled and the unadulterated honesty in her movements made him wonder if he could save her from the hell that he went through. And, as the beautiful girl crouched nearby chugged the water down, he knew that he couldn't let her already damaged soul bear the same scars that his did. Emily didn't know it yet, but Adam made a promise to her in that fleeting moment:

  I won't let them do to you what they did to me.

  She handed the bottle back and wiped her chin with the back of her hand.

  "Are you ready to get moving again?"

  "Um, yeah. Sure."

  The look on his face made it obvious that he was deep in thought.

  "What's wrong?"

  "Oh, nothing." He stood up and shoved the bottle back into the bag, "It's not that far in from here."

  Emily placed both palms on her knees and pushed herself back up.

  "Let's do it."

  Over a series of tiny, almost unnoticeable hills, Adam and Emily kicked through the increasingly thick brush. Though there was a narrow path where the young painter trekked almost every day, the overgrowth was quick to try and take it back over. Its creeping branches and vines encroached all around and scraped at their exposed legs like tiny little fingers.

  Even in the shade of the ancient trees, the sticky air made it feel like a hike through hell.

  "Here. Right over here," he pointed to a small clearing to the right. It was, as she expected, a familiar spot to Emily, though some things had changed.

  The tractor tire where she and her friends used to sit with stolen beers was long gone, as was the mountainous pile of cans that had been left behind over time. The last time that Emily actually saw it, it was almost as tall as she was. Of course, nearly five years had passed since then and it looked like time had erased every trace of those carefree summers.