CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I’m catching the elevator up to Dr. Zeek’s office. I don’t have an appointment. I hope she’s here. I need to see her.

The elevator doors ding open and I jog through the hall and push open the glass doors to the reception area. The receptionist, Amy, sees me and smiles brightly.

“Emily, how are you? I didn’t know you were in today. Did you switch days?”

“I need to see Dr. Zeek, today, now. Is that possible? Please say that’s possible,” I plead.

“Well,” she drags out the word and I tap my finger on her desk in impatience. She holds a finger up to me and says, “Hang tight for one minute, lovely.”

I nod and watch as she picks up her phone and after a short moment speaks, “Emily Roberts is here to see you and it seems she’s in need of a session right now.” Amy pauses, “Okay.”

She hangs up the phone and I look in her eyes, eager to see the response in her expression; however, she’s quicker and tells me first.

“She said to go right in.”

“Thank you,” I say.

She gives me a bright smile and I hope one day my smile can be as bright as Amy’s.

I open the door to Dr. Zeek’s office and find her at her desk, eating a sandwich. She must be on a break.

“Damn, I’m sorry. I can wait out in the reception and let you finish that,” I say, but my eyes are begging her to tell me to stay.

“Nonsense, I can eat and listen. Take a seat, Emily, and tell me why you felt you needed to see me urgently. Has something happened?”

“I’m cutting my skin,” I blurt out before I lose my courage. I’m expecting to see shock, panic, judgment on her face, but all I see is a soft woman’s soft, understanding face.

“And why do you think you cut, Emily?” she asks, not missing a beat.

“When my memories and thoughts are too overwhelming, I cut to free my mind. Cutting clears my thoughts and gives me a moment of peace.”

“And after?”

“Shame, disgust,” I whisper, but still loud enough for her to hear me.

“And what made you come here to tell me today?”

What did? When I cut myself today, I already knew I’d gone too far. I wanted to stop. “Part of it was when I cut today, the shame, the feeling of knowing what I had done to my flesh. And the other part, the part which pushed me to actually do this, Kanye caught me. Well, for once, I think I wanted to be found out, so I didn’t hide it. Until I saw his reaction and then I felt disgusted with myself. He picked me up and cried with me. He’s hurting and I don’t want to ever do that to him again.” I take a long breath in. “I need help. I need you to help me to be strong again.”

“What makes you think you aren’t strong?”

My forehead creases while I stare at Dr. Zeek, trying to figure out if this is a trick question.

She throws her leftover sandwich in the bin under her desk and walks over to the seat I’m on and sits next to me.

“Emily, before you were kidnapped, I wouldn’t have called you unique. I would have called you normal, average. You lived a normal, average life, but because of the unfortunate events that have happened to you, you are now unique. Why? Because you survived the impossible. Every day you walk around living; you are surviving. And every day you fight your feelings to not be with the man you love, because you think you’re saving him, makes you unique, but most of all, you are strong. All of those things take strength.”

I shake my head. “No, I gave up. I gave into them. I ended up letting them do those things to me. I became weak,” I shout and stand from the sofa, wanting distance from this woman and her words. Words I’m desperate to believe.

Dr. Zeek looks up to me with intent in her eyes. “Don't you see, Emily, you've never been weak. A weak person would have ended their life during or after your kidnapping. But you haven’t, won’t, because you are strong. You’re a survivor.”

Strong, survivor.

“Marco, Donovan, all of those men planted those thoughts in you. They aren't who you are. They are who they are.”

“Who they are?” Weak, worthless, used and disgusting.

“Those men went to those parties looking for women who couldn’t escape them because of their insecurities. They only reflected how they felt about themselves onto you because they can’t handle what they are or what they have become from previous abuse or being brought up and told that’s who they were. They had a choice; to become better than their abuser or to become their abuser. They choose wrong and for that, God will punish them.”

Dr. Zeek’s words spin around in my mind. I know what she’s saying is the truth. I saw the disgust on their faces, the hatred they had for me yet they didn’t even know me.

The realization of what Dr. Zeek is explaining spreads through my body. I believe those men thought that way about themselves, so then I have to ask myself, am I like those men? No. Never. I’m nothing like them.

So how do I move on with that knowledge? I’ve defined myself as weak and worthless for so long. If I’m not those, than what am I? I don’t feel strong and I don’t feel happy, so where do I go from here?

***

Kanye

The desire to hit something, hurt someone is thundering through my body. From the tips of my toes to the tingling in my fingertips, I need to cause some damage.

My Emmy, with a razor to her beautiful soft skin is repeating over in my mind and I’m going to go crazy if my fists don’t hit something soon.

I turn into Dom’s place and break quickly. The tires screech and the car slides for about a meter.

I jump out of the car, leaving the keys and not bothering to shut my door. I push open the side gate and it hits the fence, flying back at me, but I’m ready and I force it back again. I reach around to my neck, pull my shirt up, and throw it to the ground.

I hear Dom calling my name but I ignore him. I’m only here for one reason. It’s not to see him. I spot what I want and walk straight towards it, rage driving my arm back.

One swing and my fist connects hard with the punching bag. Hard swings, one after another, brutal and fast.

Dom calls out behind me. “Jesus, Kanye, put the fucking gloves on so you don’t cut up your knuckles.”

I ignore him.

The vision of Emmy cutting, bleeding, crying, drowning, has tainted my vision red. I’m not stopping for gloves. If she’s hurting, then so am I.

My girl is hurting. My girl is breaking apart. My girl is hiding away.

I need to save her. I can. I will. I’ll die trying.

***

Emily

When I arrived home from my visit with Dr. Zeek the house was empty, no sign of Kanye. If I still knew him at all, he was out letting off some steam.

I’m curled up on the sofa watching TV when I hear his truck drive up. I don’t move, just wait for him to come inside. When I hear the door open and close, I glance up and over at the handsome man staring back at me. He walks over and takes a seat next to me on the sofa.

I mute the TV and for the first time since I’ve been back, I ask him, “How are you?” I’m ashamed of myself that I’m only now asking him this.

Kanye looks at me with sadness in his eyes; the pain of the day evident on his beautiful, weary face.

“Not good, baby,” he whispers, and those softly spoken words may as well be thundering bullets right through my heart.

He sits forward, places his elbows on his knees and covers his face with his hands. I notice his knuckles have cuts and are swollen. He’s been to Dom’s. Poor punching bag.

“Thank you,” I say loudly in his direction. His head pops up and looks at me confused.

“For never giving up.” I take a deep breath and keep going, “I realized something today. I was believing lies monsters told me. I have these ugly emotions which have been plaguing me for so long. Dr. Zeek has made me question those lies and emotions. I’ve realized something. How can I be these bad things if a man as wonderful as you wants me and believes in me? So, thank you. I’m not better. I’m not even close, but I’m on a much better road than I was before, because of you.”

Kanye sits up and reaches out for my hand. I let him take it. I’m not rejecting him; it only hurts us both, but touching is as far as I can go right now. Emotionally, I’m screwed up. I need to figure out where my head is before I risk putting Kanye through any more grief.

“Emmy, baby, that’s amazing. Where do we go from here?” Kanye’s thumb runs over my hand in a comforting gesture.

“I don’t know,” I whisper and look away.

I feel stupid. We’ve come this far and I’m still confused. I feel like the girl who keeps going back and forth. I'm drowning in a nightmare I created myself, and I can't stop it. I can’t stop myself from pushing away the people I love.

I hear Kanye sigh. My eyes flick back to him. His eyes are closed and he’s resting his head on the back of the sofa. I decide this is the best time to head to bed. This conversation can only go downhill from here.

I take my hand from his and Kanye’s eyes open. He doesn’t attempt to stop me. He just watches me stand up and head for the stairs while he rests on the sofa. I’m half way up the stairs when he stands and speaks, “You can walk away from our conversations, but you can never walk away from me.”

I pause in my retreat and turn to him as he gets to the bottom of the steps, staring up at me.

“We are an unfinished love song is all, Emmy. God’s just working on our next set of lyrics.” He takes two steps at a time to meet me and kisses my forehead. “Sweet dreams, baby.”

Kanye walks down the stairs and then into the kitchen.

I’m left frozen on the steps, my mind and body at war with each other. My body begs me to go after him, but my mind wins. I’m still too weak to reach out and take what I want.

I climb the stairs and head for my room. I pull out my laptop, open my email account and find a new message.

Subject: He’s on the move.

Donovan is on his way to the USA. He boarded a flight to New York. I’m on the same flight. He hired an investigator to find you. The investigator is in New York City. From my investigations, he has nothing on you yet, but he’s good. It will only be a matter of time before he finds you.

So Donovan is already on his way to me. That was much quicker than I anticipated it would be. No matter, I will be ready. Maybe the answers to who I am lie in dealing with him. Revenge may be what truly sets me free.