“EMMA, WAKE UP.”
Ever wonder what it’s like to be ignored, to scream what’s wrong, to tell everyone who’s the face of evil, whose lies make up who you really are?
Ever wonder what it’s like to be invisible?
I jump, stare at my grandfather. His eyes look angry, yet sympathetic. It makes me feel sorry for him, spending his life being a father to me when his only child died, when his perfection became his only imperfection. I am his daughter, he is my savior, the only man who will ever see me… Emma Sophia Dawson, the girl without a face, an infection untreated.
The girl that swore to keep her mouth shut just to save a life worth keeping.
“Emma?” Michelle asks, her small, innocent voice causing my throat to burn. I look into the rearview mirror, see her dark brown eyes glisten, tears forming in them.
“Hmm?” I respond, sitting back in the worn passenger seat, my arms folded.
“I don’t want you to leave.”
I close my eyes, fight tears, and I know Michelle is doing the same.
“I don’t either,” I say.
She sighs, slumps into her seat. Michelle is eight. Young, innocent, the most adorable little girl anyone could possibly meet. She doesn’t know what’s wrong with me, can’t analyze the pain that’s in my eyes, can’t see the reason behind it.
I’m not complaining. I don’t want her to see what happened to me.
I watch rain drops glide down the windows. Crystal clear, illustrating the parking lot. Four cars around us, two in the drive thru, two parked in the parking lot. None of them belong to my father, Mark Dawson. I’m not surprised. It’s not like he ever has time for his kids…
Always time for his fiancée, always time for my future step-brother.
“I’m sorry about this,” my grandfather says, “you losing your freedom, I mean. Your mother wouldn’t have wanted this to happen.”
“I’ll be fine,” I lie, trying to wrap myself around the thought of being content with living under the same roof as a man who would believe someone else over his child.
It’s not working. I’m still not happy.
I look out of the window, praying that God will kill me. Rip me from reality, the fact that I have to face hell all over again. Praying never works. Mark’s olive green SUV pulls into the parking lot. My middle name is etched into his license plate. It’s funny because he clearly doesn’t understand the meaning of fatherhood. Parade me around all you want, but it still doesn’t make you my father…
I step out of the car, grab my duffel bag off of the backseat. Michelle reaches to hug me, and I squeeze her tightly, tell her just how much I love her, how everything’s going to be fine.
Lying to children isn’t fun. I don’t know how Mark gets by with it.
I walk toward Mark’s truck, watch the water that’s streaming around me. Wait for it to pull me away, to get rid of what’s left of me.
I’m still standing here.
My grandfather rolls the passenger side window down. He has so much to say.
“Call me when you get there,” he says, smiling.
I smile back, only for a second. “Love you,” I call back. My smile fades quickly as I open the door to Mark’s truck, the new-car smell nearly suffocating me. Loud music blasts through the speakers, my favorite band, favorite song. Life, happiness, God… No hesitation, I turn the radio off. Mark smiles at me, his big white teeth showing just how “happy” he is I’m coming home, the same toothy smile he’ll give to his new family.
I love my child more than anything.
I frown as I look out of the window, notice Michelle rolling hers down, trying to get Mark’s attention. Then the car starts moving and I look toward him. He shrugs.
“Probably wasn’t anything important anyway,” he says. My eyes widen and I watch my grandfather’s car out of the rearview mirror, my throat burning, tears welling.
I don’t belong here.
“So,” Mark says after a while, “how was your last year in high school?”
Oh, well let me see. Hmm my friends stopped talking to me (really I stopped talking period), I barely made honors… Hmm, I’ve been afraid of boys, it took me three months to actually start getting some sleep… Oh, and I started cutting myself. So how the hell do you think my year went?
I shrug as I look out through the windshield. It stopped raining.
“Have you decided where you’re going to college?”
I smirk. It’s not like he’s paying for it, spending every dime on his new family. So why should I tell him?
I shrug again, dig into Mark’s silence as he ignores me. I close my eyes as he turns the radio back on. I grunt, music clogging my thoughts.
You can survive this.
Yo ca su vi thi
-Muffled-
It’s simple. Silence makes everything better…
At least for me, it does.
“Jessie can’t wait to see you,” he says.
“Mm hmm,” I respond. Honestly, I don’t give a damn about Jessie.
“Neither can Jeremy. He’s been asking about you all week.”
My eyes widen… Jeremy’s a different story.
Imagine the green eyes searching for my innocence, the part of me he can break open and tear apart right before my eyes. Imagine the curly blonde hair everyone can’t get enough of…
Imagine him raping me… Imagine him inside of me… I don’t want to think about it.
“Jeremy?” I whisper, shock tearing me away.
His body was pressing onto me.
He glares at me. “Emma, don’t start this crap again. He’s not the one who’s causing problems here.”
I tried to scream, but he covered my mouth…
…and somehow my lungs refused to work.
I stare at him, long and hard; see the demon buried deep inside of him. See his torture, different from what Jeremy does to me.
Far different.
And then he was inside of me, and everything…
“You’re lucky he forgave you for those accusations,” he continues, staring at the road. “If I were him, I don’t think I could.”
If you were him, you’d be all over me by now.
My gut bursts, and I close my eyes, my blood pumping through my veins too quickly, my heart pounding. I don’t think Mark just said what I heard. A father could never say that to his child…
At least, that’s what I would think.
Then Jeremy’s voice comes, loud and harsh, screaming at me.
Remember who you belong to, who loves you, who has you.
Say it. Say you love me.
Good.
I stare at my wrist, imagine blood flowing down my arm, dripping onto the floor of this new truck; a razor blade gliding across my skin, tearing my skin away. A little bit of Jeremy gone every time. I smile at the thought. Mark doesn’t notice, doesn’t say anything.
“Yeah,” I say after a while, my voice trying its hardest not to crack, “it’s my fault I was raped, right?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, wait for him to yell at me. Scream, anger, pain. Wait for the demonic words to fall from his mouth, the words that pry me open and shut me down.
Why would Jeremy rape you?
Instead, he says he doesn’t have time for this, I’m overreacting. I don’t want him to marry Jessie, will do anything to keep it from happening.
I was never raped.