Over the Edge

Ch.14-Freedom and Imprisonment

And then in one night he had stolen everything from me.

Breathe, Emma.

I was an idiot. A naïve young girl who knew nothing about life and was in over her head dating a senior. To think he could like me. To think he was interested. I would never make that mistake again. What my parents had was one in a million. Some people just weren't meant for happily ever after and I was one of those people.

"A damn shame," Michael reiterated in a quieter voice as a different topic flicked onto the screen. But I was very much still hung up on the breaking news segment. My own personal hell was now loose in the world. My nightmares were real.

I feared what would keep me up at night now that what haunted my thoughts was reality.

Air. I needed air. And maybe a sedative to take me away from it all. That would be nice, too.

I was vaguely aware of the door banging open as my mother's cheerful voice greeted us. She clanged around in the kitchen, putting groceries away. I still couldn't move. I knew where I wanted to go; upstairs. Locked in my room for all eternity. I just couldn't seem to get my feet to go there.

"What's going on?" she said as she joined us in the living room. The TV had to flash again to breaking news segment and Mike's stupid face popped up. There was silence, and I felt her about ready to approach me when my feet finally caught up with my brain and bolted me up the stairs. I could hear my mother close behind me. I was nearly to my room when she grabbed my arm and forced me to a stop. My mom was not a big woman. She was quite petite but stronger than she appeared. I could already feel the tears falling as I sagged willingly against her chest, needing the comfort only a mom could give. She walked us into my room and shut the door gently behind her. She sat us down on the edge of my bed and pulled her hand through my hair.

"Shh, Emma, it's okay," she soothed. "You're okay. Don't be scared."

"Don't be scared?" I yanked away from her, my petrifying fear morphing into rage. "Don't be scared? I have every fucking right to be scared, Mom! He-he-oh, my God." I collapsed to the floor, covering my face in my hands as I sobbed. My shoulders heaved with the intensity. Every image that came to mind was of his face and that only caused me to cry harder.

"Sweetheart, you must listen to me," she started again, sounding closer. When I glanced up through my teary eyes I saw that she was kneeling before me. "You can't let this consume you, okay? You're my daughter; you are stronger."

I wanted to believe I was. I wanted to believe I could carry on like perfectly normal even with the knowledge that he was no doubt searching for me as we spoke. But being realistic I knew I couldn't. I knew the chances of that happening were terrible and I was more likely to go into a catatonic state of shock and not say a word for months.

"Emmalyn, you are stronger, and he can't break you," my mother continued. She sounded so sure, so freaking sure of herself, that I almost believed it, too. Almost.

But not quite.

"You don't know what it's like," I whispered, staring dazedly at the floor. "To see him everywhere you go. He's in my dreams, in my thoughts. He's every other face walking down the street, every voice I can't locate. He's every phantom brush of my shoulder, every unaccounted for touch. Every leering look, every passing gaze." I met my mother's sorrowful eyes. "He's a part of me, Mom. He won't ever leave."

The look in her eyes was one of loss and pain, like she knew there just wasn't anything she could do to help me. I had had the best psychiatric care had to offer, and look at where I was..

"We'll get through this," she stated instead, in a voice way stronger than she looked. "We've gotten through worse and we can do it again, as a family. You must trust in yourself, Emmalyn."

I didn't, though. I didn't trust in myself to keep that bastard from my thoughts one single second, because before I could even entertain such a thing he was already creeping in. "Can I please be left alone?" I squeaked.

She ran her hand over my hair. I knew it was the last thing she wanted to do, but begrudgingly she stood up. "Sure. I'll start on dinner. Meatloaf sound good?"

I nodded absentmindedly. She left. I noticed she kept my door open a crack. I couldn't say I blamed her. Under such a state of distress I was known to take extreme measure to relieve it.

I sat in a pathetic huddled mess on the floor, back against the end of my bed. My knees were drawn up tight to my chest, as if I could protect myself from all the worldly horrors that way. It was a naïve thought, but I wished it were true.

He was back. Back to make my life miserable. He should have been put away for much longer, but I had no idea where those tapes were and they were the only real evidence. The only fighting chance I would have if I took anything to court. And if I had any say in the matter, it would be to never see that son of a bitch again, especially not in person. Even court seemed like an impossible, faraway prospect.

I couldn't believe it. With his freedom came my feeling of captivity. And with his captivity came my glimpses of freedom.

We couldn't have both.

Not forever.