Endangered Hearts, page 20
Emilia quickly made her way into what used to be her room. As she suspected, her closets had been picked clean and long lines of dust laid around where her eight inch television used to be. In spite of her prediction however, most of her books still remained and she laughed to herself, knowing full well that the only reason they did was because they weren’t worth anything. She dropped several of them and a plastic file expander into a cardboard box. And while she was trying to be quiet, she realized that the noise was a lot louder than it should have been.
Emilia wandered over to her old window and pushed back the blinds. She thought she had prepared herself for another fight with her mother, but she wasn’t so sure about George, about his snarky remarks and filthy comments. Without hesitation, she grabbed the box and went to leave. If the men in her life had taught her anything, it was that if she didn’t want to put up with something, she sure as hell didn’t have to.
Emilia had planned on ignoring him, on walking straight out the front door without him saying so much as a word to her. She had done it several times before, and with any luck, this would be the last time she would ever have to do it. Unfortunately, George and his big mouth had a different idea.
“What are you doing here?” By sitting in the chair closest to the door, he was impossible to avoid. If he was so inclined, he could even lean back enough and block her way. Briefly, she considered going out through the other door but rejected the idea. Why should she have to run away? This had been her home long before it had ever been his.
“Just leaving,” she tried. “I came to pick up some paperwork.”
He mumbled something incoherent.
She lifted the box a little for emphasis. “I’ll just grab this and get out of your hair.”
“Hey, there,” he called out more loudly than necessary. “You know your mom is real worried about you. You should stop by more often.”
“I’ve tried to call a few times. I tried to call today before coming over so I didn’t bother you guys, but no one answered.”
“Yeah,” he scoffed. “We had to get rid of the phone ‘cause we couldn’t afford it.”
“Oh.” Get rid of it? More likely the telephone company made that decision for them. Why should Emilia be surprised? She had paid for that utility more than once—not to mention the late fee when Susan didn’t.
“And you know we’re still having a hard time with the fines and stuff.”
“We?” It was the second time he said it, and it seemed like George couldn’t wait to address it again, to emphasize that plural and to rub it in her face.
“Yeah, well,” he said smugly, “we were gonna wait till your mom was around to tell you, but we plan on getting hitched.”
It was a combination of his pride and spite that made him so hilarious. He was behaving just like her mother, a child who had won something not worth the trouble to compete for. George flaunted his engagement to Susan like it was a victory over Emilia, but the truth was that there was nothing to win. Susan’s affection wasn’t genuine, and couldn’t be given to anyone. Therefore, as far as Emilia was concerned, they deserved one another.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.” She gripped the box in an effort to control herself. “Nevermind. I, uh—have to go. I’ll see you later.”
Emilia stopped laughing just long enough to notice the dark look in George’s eye. It came so suddenly that it scared her. When had he developed that? Perhaps she would use the back door after all.
She retreated to the steps when his voice came back at her.
“You know I’m getting really sick and tired of you walking away from me? Now what’s so damn funny?”
Emilia should have kept walking. She knew that even then, she should not have engaged, should not have antagonized him and kept walking. Except that anger she usually swallowed and stored away wouldn’t let itself be digested, not this time—not anymore. George thought he was tired? Well, Emilia was tired too, tired of being pushed around and tolerating the shameful personalities of others.
“Okay, George, you want to know what’s funny? I known pre-teens who have their lives together better than the two of you, and you want to get married?” She laughed and rolled her eyes. “I bet I can guess why, too: because you’re both bored and lonely. Not only that, but you want Mom to claim you as a dependent so she collects more disability.”
He fumed. But as his eyes grew wide and he stomped his feet, Emilia only had more difficulty restraining her laughter. “You smartass bitch! What gives you the right to act like you’re better than everybody else?”
“I’m not better than everybody else, George. Just you.”
Instinctively, as he lunged toward her, Emilia threw the box of books at him, though it did little to impede him. His hand grabbed her elbow, holding her even tighter as she tried to shake him off. “Hey, let go of me!”
The alcohol made him bolder, that much was clear. Yet Emilia didn’t know what made him so strong all of a sudden. Like it was the easiest thing in the world, George spun her entire body, and when his hand hit her face, it felt to Emilia that her eye would pop out of her skull.
Between the slap and the ground she called out—but couldn’t when he hit her again—the world whirling around her, and her eyes begged to be closed. “You and that big mouth!” Her mind screamed a dozen different things at her: the taste of blood, the smell of cheap wine and her own voice screaming while hands tried to pull at her clothes… the sound of George as he held her down by her neck and whispered in her ear, “I got something that will shut you up!”
Just as suddenly as he tried to settle his weight on top of her, it was gone, and the whirl of yellow that Emilia saw in the kitchen ceiling continued to be just that as she squirmed away—a man’s screams were the last thing she heard before her eyes finally shut.
Chapter 20
Reluctant Farewell
There was something wet on her forehead.
Not only was it wet, but the coldness dulled the throbbing that echoed in her brain and out from her ears. Emilia found herself wanting to lean into it but not quite able to do so. She fell in and out of consciousness, aware that something was wrong but not sure how to define it. The urge to run and hide came as she gripped the warmth of soft material around her torso. Parts of her body panicked but she didn’t understand why. Images of the dark and painful flashed before her but Emilia couldn’t quite piece them together, either.
A warm hand replaced itself where the cold cloth had been, and a part of her recognized the hand. It was worn, wrinkled with experience to spare.
She thought back to those awful moments before she had lost consciousness: the feelings of fear and vulnerability before a numbness had taken over. Emilia had read about such defense mechanisms but never knew the descriptions of them would be so accurate. How close had she become to being a statistic? More importantly, why hadn’t she been? Where was she now? The awareness ate at her, egging her on while mocking her lack of epiphany all at the same time. She didn’t have to ask any of these things because she already knew.
Someone had saved her.
Despite the pounding in her head and her subconscious begging her not to, Emilia opened her eyes. Almost immediately, a soft figure who smelled just faintly of cinnamon came up beside her. The presence was both comforting and confusing.
“Mrs. Levkin?”
The older woman patted Emilia’s hand and did her best to smile reassuringly. “Yes, dear. You’re safe now.”
Safe? Though it hurt, Emilia shook her head. What was she talking about? What did safe mean if Kasper wasn’t there with her? “W-what happened?”
The question clearly startled Mrs. Levkin. If the poor girl did not remember, then perhaps she got hit harder than they originally thought. Mrs. Levkin stood slowly, limping, more it seemed to Emilia, to the table, where she poured a glass of water. It could have been the headache, but Emilia thought Mrs. Levkin had a deep look on her face—one of worry and heavy thought.
“From what I understand you were attacked in your mother’s home—”
It was all Emilia needed to hear to remember the details. At any rate, there was something about hearing it spoken out loud, a haunting quality that made the room spin as she tried to sit up.
“Easy, dear” Mrs. Levkin said, “try to breathe.”
Wasn’t she breathing? Was that why her chest hurt? For that matter, why did everything else hurt so badly? Why did her heart?
“He-he tried to-to—” Emilia broke out into sobs, unable to complete the sentence. Saying it out loud would make it too real and break up the possibility that what had almost happened was only a bad dream—a nightmare that she had woken up from just in time.
Her brow furrowed as Mrs. Levkin brushed the hair back from her face and handed Emilia the glass of water. “I know, dear.” She frowned. “Everything is all right now, don’t worry.”
But Emilia was still confused. Something essential was missing to complete the mystery. “How did I get here?” she said between sobs.
Realizing that the water was useless, Mrs. Levkin traded a tissue for it instead, taking no offense when the girl flinched at the sudden movement. Mrs. Levkin had seen young ladies go through similar experiences, and the inclination to avoid physical contact was a common immediate symptom.
“Mr. Zafar. Brought you here before—” she tried to emphasize “—anything could occur.”
“Kasper.” Deep down she had already known, but hearing it was still gratifying. Emilia sighed and stared at her hands. She didn’t feel brave enough to try and look in the mirror, or even reach up to see if her lip was as swollen as it felt.
“Yes.” Mrs. Levkin’s voice was solemn, making Emilia wonder just how long she had been out. She had never fainted before, and the revelation only toppled her shame. “He very much wants to see you. I’m supposed to alert him the moment you wake up.”
“No way.” Emilia sighed. What would Kasper think of her, how helpless she had been? Worse yet, what was she supposed to say to him? The idea made her head pound. “I don’t think I can face him right now. I don’t think I can face anyone.”
The older woman nodded. “I understand”
“I won’t ask you to lie for me—”
“Emilia, dear,” she said, patting her hand gently, “you will never have to.”
Emilia faded in and out of sleep. She was torn between her surroundings, because, despite her knowledge of safety, she could not cancel out the impending doom she felt, and the memory of all too recent past events. Therefore, she awoke every few minutes, her mind trying to flush out tears and nightmares but unable to do so.
Emilia was also touched by the way Mrs. Levkin had tended to her. Though she had rarely been sick during her own childhood, she couldn’t remember Susan having sat by her bedside, or comforting her when she cried—even when she desperately wanted to grab at such memories.
What had Mrs. Levkin thought when Emilia left Kasper? Did she hate her as much as he probably did? And was the older woman only kind to her for her own paycheck’s sake? Emilia doubted it, having known Mrs. Levkin to only be a kind and patient person. Yet at the same time, she worried about what she thought, and not just her, but what the others around the manor thought of her. Even in the face of their opinions however, she knew that it was only really Kasper’s that mattered. And the truth was that her anger towards him had worn off weeks ago. That same pride that she had so often teased him about was what had been keeping them apart those last few weeks. If it wasn’t for her unwillingness to forgive him, they would have been together. Certainly, she wouldn’t have gone to her mother’s house.
At the same time, shouldn’t she have been mad at him on principle? He obviously had followed her to her mother’s house or he would not have been able to rescue her. Yet the same violation she had once felt for him spying on her before was long absent, replaced by gratitude that he hadn’t listened to her.
A soft knocking interrupted her thoughts, startling the tears that she hadn’t even realized she had been crying. “Emilia—”
She sniffed and pulled the covers back from her face. The night had settled in but Emilia couldn’t remember when she had fallen asleep. Hastily, she tried to rub the tears from her eyes, and swore at herself. She would have to deal eventually. It might as well have been sooner rather than later.
“C-come in.” She shook her head. Couldn’t she at least have kept her voice from breaking?
Emilia did her best to look at the floor instead of him, but it was impossible to ignore the tense way he entered the room, the cautious way he looked at her.
“Hello.” She tried to make herself smile, but failed and instead sat up in the bed, pulling the hair away from her face. It was bad enough to be a helpless damsel in distress, but if nothing else she didn’t have to look awful while doing it.
“Hello.”
It seemed like such an arbitrary thing to say, but what else could she say besides thank you for saving my life? Besides ‘sorry’?
“Are you all right?”
She closed her eyes, nodded. “Thanks to you.”
“Are you in any pain?”
She smiled. “Constantly.”
Her attempt at humor broke him. Kasper released his rigid stance and shook out his shoulders, huffing out what Emilia imagined to be some Persian obscenities. “Forgive me, I should have been there sooner, intervened faster—”
She cut him off. He was angry at himself? “If you hadn’t been there at all, I don’t want to even think about it…”
He clenched his jaw, making the plastic of his teeth grind together. “I am so very sorry that happened to you, Emilia. If I could go back in time for you, I would have interfered much sooner.”
“Interfered?” Emilia questioned it, but Kasper’s hands alone revealed everything. The skin around his knuckles had already begun to scab and the normally thin skin around the bone had healthy bruises.
At the sight she sat up and leaned towards him. All this concern for her and he wasn’t even taking basic care of himself? “Oh God, are you okay?”
“Not if you are unwell.”
Emilia swallowed hard. “D-did you kill him?”
Kasper forced himself to relax once again. It wouldn’t do her any good if he worked himself into a state. “Not quite… unfortunately.”
She sighed. “Good.”
“Good?”
Daring to make eye contact, she looked up at him. His face was fixed and hard, even beneath the mask, and she wondered just how badly he was working to control his emotions. “I couldn’t live with it if you went to jail.”
“Foolish girl, I wouldn’t let that happen.” Kasper’s attempt to laugh was distant and cold. Emilia shivered at how easily he seemed to regress to the bottled up guy she had first met. “You know well enough money more than anything buys justice in this country.”
Her tears threatened up again at the sound of his tone. How could he sound relaxed about his welfare while so concerned about her own? “Sure…” She shook her head. Had she done this to him, turned him back into the hardhearted man he pretended to be? Somehow the idea of it felt just as bad as the pounding in her cheekbone, the swelling on her lip. “I am foolish though, aren’t I?”
“Emilia—”
“I shouldn’t have gone there alone. Shouldn’t have gone there at all—”
“No,” he said, perhaps more sternly than necessary. “This incident was not your fault.”
The sound of his voice was nearly enough to soothe her distraught temperament, and she reached for the water she had refused before. He was so calm, so serene even as he was struggling. Did he know how much she aspired to be like him?
He cleared his throat. “Get some rest.”
Emilia almost cracked a smile. “That’s what I was doing.” She sipped lazily from the glass. “Wasn’t I?”
“You were calling out in your sleep.” Carefully, he raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it, unsure if she would allow it and feel comfortable with the gesture, but unable to stay away from her any longer.
Emilia groaned. “I’m sorry—”
“There is no need for that, my little peach. As I said, you have done nothing wrong.”
“I am still yours, then?”
He smiled sadly. “Always.”
“W-will you stay with me, then? I don’t want to be alone right now.”
Kasper nodded. “Anything you want.”
Naturally, he watched while she slept. It was both a sore and pleasant reminder of her first night in the manor. How happy he had been then! How full of hope and fear! Yet now, neither of those emotions remained and only a dull numbness took its place, a feeling that was like water washing up on the rocks. In a practical way, he knew it would take its toll on him, eventually, giving way to depths of despair even he hadn’t known was possible within the human condition. But for now, he was numb, still unsure how the anger could so easily recede from him when before it had been so apparent.
Kasper had done his best to control himself, settled all those impulses that coaxed him to steal her away from her mother’s front door the minute he saw her there. He had ignored his instincts, and because of it, Emilia was hurt, and could have been significantly more so if he had not given in when he did.
He was unsure when it occurred to him that he, too, was a villain. Certainly however, the rage he felt when he heard his little peach cry out, and the sight of that monstrous fiend trying to force himself on her helped bring the epiphany to fruition. But time was lost for Kasper there, and he could not remember having pulled him off her, nor what weapon he used to pummel him. When the rage began to subside however, and his knuckles were bloody, he did not respond the way he should have—did not rush to Emilia’s side—but instead only continued to bash flesh against the wall long after he heard the bones of that deviant crack.
Perhaps that was what made him realize it later on. While she should have been his first priority—his only priority—his rage made him want to kill that man, kill that other thing who so brazenly tried to take what was his. It was Kasper’s possessiveness of her; the need to dominate and own her all for himself that had taken ahold of him. There would have been plenty of time to torture the monster later, but Emilia was hurt and needed him, and he had not been able to put his lust for violence aside.
