CHAPTER TWO

Standing in my parents’ house feels surreal. I look around the large TV room and my eyes fall on the white floral sofas. Sofas I grew up on, watched cartoons on, ate junk food on, watched scary movies with friends on, during sleepovers. Floral sofas I thought I would never see again. I drag my fingers over one of the flowers. A lump forms in my throat. I swallow past it and look up to find three sets of eyes watching me. Each with worried, loving looks. Those emotions stab me in the heart. They loved Emily so much. I wish I could bring her back for them. But she’s buried too deep. Under cemented hate and evil words.

“Honey, sit down and rest. You had a long flight.” Oh, my poor mother. I had more than just a long flight. I wonder which way she will go, denial now that I am here or wanting to know everything. I pray she goes with denial. However, that’s not my mom. She’s an amazing mother and wife. She will want to know it all, to shoulder the pain for me, but that’s not possible. I’m the only person who can carry around this darkness. Dirty, worthless whore.

I take a seat on the sofa and my dad comes and sits next to me. I notice his once dark brown hair is now mostly light brown with peppered grey throughout. The lines on his face are more pronounced and his eyes are sad with dark circles. He stares at me as if seeing a ghost. I reach out and hold his hand. Growing up, he was always cautious of our friends and boyfriends. He was always the last awake locking the house up, protecting Jake and I. I don’t want him to feel like he failed. I want to pretend I’m fine so he can take the sadness out of his now permanent features. It’s killing me knowing he’s blaming himself for my kidnapping.

“It’s okay, Dad. I’m good.” I try to give him a small smile, but I fail, so I press my lips together tightly, nod and try to convey the lie through my eyes, praying that’s enough for him to ease his pain.

Kanye coughs and I look over to him. His eyes are narrowed on me. I could never get anything past Kanye. He’s the one person I already know trying to fool will never work.

My mom pipes up and says, “Okay, I’ll start on the cottage pie and then I’ll whip up some chocolate frosted brownies. Both your favorites, Em.” She beams at me and I nod, widening my eyes in what I hope is excitement as my lips still refuse to show any kind of emotion.

“Thanks, Mom.”

After my mom heads into the kitchen, my dad stands, adjusts the waist of his pants in an awkward move and coughs.

“I’m going to go and help your mom out.”

He kisses my temple and whispers, “Glad my baby is home.” Then he leaves the room.

As soon as my dad disappears, I look down at my hands. Rubbing my fingertips together roughly. I’m nervous to be alone with Kanye. He’s going to want to talk and I don’t know what to say. I know what my reactions will be; numb, uncaring words. Those emotions scare me, but I’ve been this way for so long now, I don’t know how else to be. Kanye deserves so much more from me.

I look up at him and see him staring down at me. “Kanye,” I say softly.

“I love you, Emmy,” he says quickly.

My heart and chest collides at hearing the words I know my heart has been waiting for since Kanye and Jake saved me. My body freezes as I brace for the onslaught of need I have for this man, but I must reject, ignore and say no to them.

Kanye sinks to his knees in front me. Our faces level. His feelings for me evident in his eyes, swirling like a tornado. I can’t just see how much he loves me; I can feel it. The air sizzles with his need to touch me. His hesitance showing with how he’s fidgeting with his fingers. Kanye’s eyes pierce into mine, begging me for some kind acknowledgement.

“I thought I would never be able to say that to you again.”

The stinging in my eyes now stops as I free my tears and they fall down my cheeks.

His eyes grow soft at seeing my tears. Kanye grabs for my hands, but I pull them away. Hurt flashes across his features and my chest aches that I’m the one causing him this pain.

“Please don’t... don’t be sad,” I say softly. I don’t want him hurting. I want to take all his pain away and make him forget he ever met me.

“I can’t help it, baby. I finally have you back, yet you flinch away from me as if I’m going to hurt you.”

I shake my head not wanting him to feel that way, but unable to explain the truth. He should be flinching away from me. He should be running away from my messed up life and me.

“Emmy, will you come home? The house is still exactly the same apart from some mirrors and vases I had to replace.”

Jake told me Kanye lost it and destroyed our house when he found out I was sold into the sex slave industry. How do I tell him I won’t be coming back home? It’s not mine anymore; it hasn’t been for five years. I wipe my face of the evidence that shows I care. I take deep breathes, build my strength and begin, “Kanye, that’s your home now. I-I don’t know what you want from me, but you and me, the us...” I pause, struggling with my words, “the us, we used to be, it’s gone now.”

Kanye’s eyes glass over, but no tears fall. My heart shatters into a million pieces.

“Emmy, you just need to take some time to adjust,” Kanye states softly, trying to convince me.

I shake my head; he’s not understanding me. Fear crosses his features.

“No, Kanye, you need to understand. I’ve changed and my feelings for you have changed.” Lie. “I will always cherish our time together, but you need to move on.”

Kanye balls his hands into fists, clenches his jaw, and looks to the side. We stay frozen in this position and in silence for a long moment before he turns back around to me and fiercely says, “My heart is broken, Emmy, broken for having been without you for even a second in this fucked-up life God thought he had to test us with. But mostly, my heart is broken because I can see how much pain you’re in. I can never understand why you’re doing this to us, to me, but I love you regardless. I always will. Nothing you say will ever have me backing away from you. Moving on,”—he huffs out an annoyed laugh—“there is no moving on from you, Emmy. You are mine and I am yours. No matter how many nights apart we have endured and will endure, that will never change.”

I shake my head furiously at his words, trying desperately to hide that his words almost bring me to my knees. They shake the foundation of my strength and numb exterior. I push back hard on the emotions wanting to burst free and show no emotion. Within me, my insides just burned me alive and turned to ashes. My heart along with it.

My poor beaten and scarred heart. One moment's rest it begs from me. Touch him. Kiss him. Be with him. However, I can’t do that. For me to give it one moment of peace, I will be hurting someone I love too much. Kanye deserves so much more than the whore I have become.

Kanye stands and steps back from me. His jaw clenched tightly, holding on to his emotions. Reach out to him. I can’t. Hurt him now and save him the pain later. And yourself, save yourself the heartache you know will come when he realizes how worthless you really are.

“Emmy, I fell in love with you before I even knew what love was. And I will continue to love you until I’m old and senile and I forget what love is.” Kanye pauses, and this time a lone tear falls from my traitorous eyes. “I’m going to give you time and space. But I’m warning you now, Emmy; you are mine. I will be watching and waiting. I won’t lose you again. I will fight for you and if giving you space right now is fighting for you, then that is what I will do. Just know when I feel the time is ready, I’m coming for you, for us.”

My mouth slightly parts at his determined words.

Kanye walks toward the front door, then turns to me.

“I’m going to move my stuff out of our house. I’ll stay at Dom’s for a while. Move back home. I can already see how much faking you’re okay with your parents is affecting you. Go home and be yourself so you can try to heal.”

With those words, he opens the door and leaves. I’m left staring after him thinking of a place I once called home. A house I once laughed in, had dreams of a family in. Going back there is going to be painful. But Kanye is right. Pretending to my parents every day is going to be too much for me. I can pretend I’m okay much better from a distance.