This is it, he’s going to hurt you. His eyes find our joined hands before moving up to our faces, and when his eyes collide with mine, I can see the furious anger boiling inside them. I can feel it, and that causes me to take a step back, tucking myself a little behind Clark, as if he could save me from his father’s wrath, as if he could save me from his touch.
“I told you, no fucking…” His father grits out, his jaw tightening. “Do you think I say these things for my health? You disappoint me, Clark…all the fucking time. I should be anymore…” His voice booms through the open space and I start to tremble, my entire body reacting with fear to his presence. My eyes drift closed, and I try to talk myself off the ledge, but the panic rises and rises like water overflowing a riverbank.
Through the hazy fog, I can feel Clark tense at his father’s words, his hand tightening in mine, but only slightly, as if he’s controlling how much anger he puts out.
“Emmy… such a pretty name, for such a pretty girl…” The words whip through me and I almost double over at the sensation, my free hand pressing against my chest. It feels like I’m breaking, all over again I’m breaking.
“It’s not like that. I’m not… we’re not fucking,” Clark hisses and I can feel his anger.
He will hurt you… break you all over again…
Tears sting my eyes, and I know Clark has no idea what’s taking place, but I want him to know, I want him to know so badly.
“Is she okay?” Clark’s father asks, and I feel Clark turning, the warmth of his body radiating into mine.
“Shit…” Clark curses under his breath before turning toward me fully. I blink my eyes open, but I don’t see him…all I see is my face pressed into the mattress, all I feel is the pain between my legs.
“Emerson…” Clark whispers, cradling my cheek against his hand. I force myself to breathe, in and out, in and out. I’m vaguely aware of footsteps echoing off the floor telling me someone is walking away, or worse toward me.
“I knew this was a bad fucking idea…” Clark’s father’s voice rains down on me, and I sink my teeth into my bottom lip to stifle the screams threatening to rip from somewhere dark inside of me. I wasn’t strong enough to scream before. I was weak, so weak. Squeezing my eyes shut, I beg for the moment to end, for the pain living inside my chest to go away.
“I’ve got you… I’ve got you…” Clark’s soft voice wraps around me, and then I feel him, pulling me into his chest. He’s got you. He’ll protect you. The strangest thing happens then… the ache, the pain, it disappears, almost as if it never existed.
The pressure around my lungs ease, and I can breathe again. With my ear pressed against his cotton clad chest, I listen to the steady beat of his heart and let it bring me back to the present. When the panic eases from my muscles and I feel at peace, I pull away, my cheeks streaked with tears, and red with embarrassment.
Shame hits me hard followed by a huge dose of guilt. Clark doesn’t owe me anything, he isn’t responsible for the fear, the pain, but I’m using him, like a vice I let him carry the burden of my pain and I can’t keep doing that. I have to learn to deal with this on my own, even if I don’t want too, even if it feels like I’ll never survive.
Taking a step back, and then another, I tell myself this is the right thing to do. I’ve made it this far in life without needing someone like Clark, and I’ll continue to make it. He won’t always be here, he won’t always be able to save me.
I need to be my own hero.
“I’m…I’m really sorry. This can’t keep happening,” I whisper, feeling as if my heart is breaking. Why does it feel this way? It shouldn’t feel this way.
Clark’s chocolate brown brows furrow and the look on his face makes it hard to breathe. It’s a cross between despair, confusion, and anger. “What do you mean this can’t happen? We aren’t doing anything wrong. I’m not hurting you, and I promised you I wouldn’t let anyone else either.” I shake my head, strands of red hair fall into my face at the movement. He doesn’t understand, of course he doesn’t.
“You won’t always be there to rescue me, Clark and I can’t keep relying on you to be either. I’m sorry,” I say one last time as I turn and rush up the stairs to my room. I think the worst part of all isn’t the way my chest starts to hurt again or even the way Clark looked at me. No, the worst part is that I don’t hear him walking up the stairs, chasing after me. The worst part is I’m afraid that maybe, he actually believes me.