I decided to post this first chapter to see if it would catch interest, if so I'll post the remainder and continue it. Enjoy and review!
*Triggers for child abuse, spousal abuse, lewd acts*
Free.
The only words that swan though her brain as she sprinted down the deserted road, fueled by pure adrenaline as it was literally all she had to offer her malnurtured body. Over the span of four years she'd only been fed enough to keep her barely alive, and her jutting skeletal points were all the proof she needed to show she was starving, and the almost permanent ache that came with any hunger.
It was night, and the rain from the evening had nestled itself into the cold cracks of asphalt, leaving it slick, so she shouldn't have been surprised when fifteen minutes into her escape, she slipped and fell forward. Her reflexes were off, so she hit the pavement face first, crying out as she saw sparks. Luckily, the only superficial injury she'd sustained was a split lips, her bony finger reached up to touch the tender area, only to be yanked away at the contact.
Emma composed herself and walked ahead, moving to the tree line where she would be provided good cover, just in case those bastards came looking for her. Her fists balled when she thought of having to go back to that place. No, now that she had a taste of freedom, a glimmer of hope, she couldn't do it again going back would be the end of her.
The night grew cold as she walked, it couldn't be later than 11 or 12 and the thought of having to survive in the cold October night with only a ratty t-shirt and equally worn out jeans, didn't sound too favorable. She supposed that it was better than the alternative and trekked on, hoping she'd reach town soon. Emma thought of where to go once she arrived, the police station? That didn't sound too welcoming but it was the only option, no stranger would help her, even if they did, would she want it?
Emma had always been weary of people, not without justification either, no one had ever treated her with dignity or compassion so she didn't know how to act as such. She knew it was fucked up, but it was a damned world out there for people like her who hadn't been given a second chance. All her life she was rejected, tossed away when she wasn't of use to anyone, and it had taken it's toll, she knew she was broken beyond repair.
Fifteen, almost sixteen years on Earth had felt like two lifetimes, she only wished for death, not even allowed the solace it would bring. Emma had her pride, so she never prayed to a God when things took a turn for the worse, she would live as her own unit and die the same. Pessimistic she may sound, but she felt rightful to be as there was not much for her to be optimistic about as of late.
Emma rubbed up and down her arms, masked by gooseflesh, in hope that the friction would bring some illusion of warmth. Only when she saw the city lights did she think of those she left behind, the other children, the ones who relied on her for protection and comfort. Emma looked to the blue star they had deemed their charm.
"I'm keeping my promise." Emma muttered, though they couldn't hear her, the words were more for her than them. The sound of her voice was alien, she teared up slightly.
The sign reading 'Greeting from Philadelphia' shown in the distance, and Emma ran to it, civilization bringing her more comfort than she could have ever imagined.
The road traveling into town was dead, as it lead to nothing but farmland and open woods. Suburbs were nearest, and the replicated houses on either side of the road made her feel so small, she wasn't sure how she was going to act when she would have to actually talk to a human being.
"Cross that bridge when you get to it, Em." She told herself, coming to a stop in front of a schoolhouse. She made her way over to the building, light fluttered out from one of the downstairs windows, she quickly and quietly made way over to it. Peering in, she could see a figure pouring over a stack of paper, looking entirely stressed the woman had a pixie haircut and looked like the picture of innocence. Emma decided that with this woman, she could cross the bridge, she had a good sense that she would be kind.
Emma knocked on the window three times sharply, the woman jolted up to a standpoint and turned to where the sound originated.
"Hello?" Came her voice, muffled by the glass. Emma knocked again, in a pattern this time, she wasn't sure she could project her voice loud enough to reach the ears of this woman.
Sure enough, she walked to the window, pulled the shades up and revealed Emma, who knew she looked like hell. The teacher gasped and opened the window in one swift move.
"Are you okay? What are you doing out there, it's freezing!" She looked so concerned, Emma had never been looked at in such a way, she found herself in a pool of tears before she could even think twice. "Oh, dear, hold on." The woman said and ran out of the room, only to arrive by Emma's side in moments, she pulled her close and led her back into the building constructed of brick.
They were soon in the classroom Emma had found her in, sitting on a small couch in the far corner under a set of windows. The woman sat Emma down before moving to make her something to drink, she could tell the girl was in desperate need of some TLC. Handing her a steaming mug of cocoa, she sat with her legs crossed beside the sobbing blonde, rubbing comforting circles into her back, she almost jerked away when she felt her spine, but didn't.
"I'm Mary Margret." She said simply. "Do you want to tell me your name?" Mary Margret asked.
Emma inhaled and exhaled shakily, once, twice, before she could muster up a sentence that would be coherent. "Emma." She sniffed. "Swan, if we're being cordial." It felt nice to talk, she realized.
"Emma." Mary Margret smiled. "What were you doing outside so late, you'll catch your death?"
"Running." Emma shrugged. "Death seemed welcoming at the time, still does in all honesty."
Mary Margret's heart went out to the teen, she was shocked someone so young could be so wishful for death, then again, this girl looked like she'd been through a storm of sorrow. The pain was etched into her features, she could be beautiful if she'd only smile.
"Can you tell me who you were running from?" She asked.
"My-" Emma choked. "My foster parent's."
"Did they hurt you?" Mary Margret asked, she knew the answer before the girl had even begun to cry once more, allowing the teacher to pull her into an embrace. Emma was shocked at herself, she never liked being touched and would wiggle out of any contact whenever possible, but she couldn't bring herself to do so, she felt safe in that moment.
"Please help them," Emma croaked. "The other kids, they can still make it, please." Emma cried. "There still have hope, they can make it." Her words were confused and jumbled, she couldn't stop them from coming out that way.
"Okay, okay." Mary Margret soothed. "Hey, don't worry, everything will be okay, Emma, I promise."
Emma grew solemn, she'd heard those words before, four years ago. "You shouldn't promise me anything." She whispered, knowing the woman couldn't hear her.
"I need to call the police, they can help the other kids, and they can help you, too." Mary Margret stood before Emma could object, she didn't want to deal with the police. "David? Hey, no I'm fine still in class. No, I need you to come over here as soon as possible, there's a young girl here and she," The teacher glanced back at Emma before turning again, she twirled the cord between slender fingers. "Just get to the school. Yes now, David!" She hung up and rolled her eyes. "My husband." She explained. "I love him but he's so dense sometimes." She chuckled in a dry attempt to lighten the mood.
Emma smiled weakly, but wasn't feeling much like joking as she took another long drink of the cocoa, finishing it off. "Thank you." She said, placing the mug on the small oak table that sat beside the sofa.
"Of course," She smiled. "How old are you?"
"How old are you?" Emma countered, the woman looked taken back, and Emma let her features soften. "I'm sorry, it's a defense. I'm fifteen, sixteen pretty soon."
"That's a good age." Mary Margret replied.
"I wish I could agree with you." Emma breathed, not taking her eyes off of her hands where she tweaked them in her lap.
Mary Margret smiled sadly, squeezing the girl's knee lightly just as David breezed into the room, Emma stiffed visibly as he did. "It's okay, this is my husband." She stood, and linked arms with the man to introduce him to her. "David, this is Emma, Emma, David."
"Hi Emma, wanna tell me what's up?" He asked, pulling a chair over to sit in front of her. He leaned on the back of the chair, sitting on it backwards. Emma shook her head, the couple shared a look before David went on. "Is it okay if Mary Margret tells me what you said?" He asked, she nodded. The teacher told him what she knew as Emma awkwardly stared out the window.
"Hey." She said. "You're not going to send me back, are you?"
"No, of course not, we just need to figure out why you ran in the first place. If you can tell us, we can help you, and the other kids as well."
Emma breathed in, she wasn't she she could handle a sob story right now, because it would be one no doubt. "What if they hurt them?"
"Hey, we won't let that happen, but you gotta tell us." The man urged, he had kind eyes and Emma felt she could trust him, at least a little.
Emma took a deep breath and closed her eyes, back to four years ago she took herself, when it all began. Tears were flowing even before she could begin.
Four years ago.
The farmhouse was old and looked like a tornado had recently hit it. Emma stared up at the ominous building through her youthful eyes, and hoped this time would be different. A man and woman emerged from the house, they looked like a typical american family, with her in a ruffly dress and hair curled up at the ends, and he tall with a lanky build, wearing a suit and large rimmed glasses. She smiled at them, and they smiled back, something was still off.
Her social worker, Susan Neiman, a red head who was only a couple inches taller than the skinny 11 year old, stood by her side with a comforting hand pressed to the small of her back.
"Hi, Emma, I'm Miss Caroline, this is Mr Wyatt, my husband." The woman said in an oh-so cheery voice, Emma winced, no one was that happy. "Would you like to see your new home?" She asked, Emma nodded shyly, hooking herself onto Susan.
"Come on, Ems." Susan urged, walking up with Emma to the porch before turning her so they were face to face. "Okay, I'm going to go now, but you're going to love it here, these people are very nice, they're going to take care of you, okay?" Emma nodded, but a tear threatened at her rims. "Don't cry, I'll come visit you, I promise." Susan wiped away her tear, and kissed her on the forehead. She did visit, but only once.
"Come on, girl." Miss Caroline smiled and extended her hand to Emma, who took it nervously, while glancing up to her husband who continued to stare quietly with a cigarette placed between his thin pressed lips. Emma couldn't place the look in his eyes, but it didn't help her feel at ease one bit, in fact, it only made matters wore.
Miss Caroline led her upstairs to a small square of a room with white curtains that swayed as a result of the open window they decorated. A twin sized bed on an antiqued metal frame sat in the far corner, red polka dots over a white comforter was spread neatly across it, a single pillow at the head. The lady smiled down at her, she had large white teeth that were only slightly bucked.
"Do you like it?" She asked, Emma nodded slowly. "Okay, I have to start dinner, now." She said, Emma didn't let go as she moved to leave. "Put your things away, girl. And welcome home." She said, Emma let go reluctantly before she was left alone in the bare and unfamiliar room. She looked to the closet and crept over to it. Upon opening she found it to be bare aside from a ruffled lace dress, she toyed with the material, unaware to the footsteps that neared.
"You like it?" She jumped to find Mr. Wyatt leaned up against the doorway, his cigarette gone, a toothpick in it's wake. His voice was deep and had a slight southern undertone so it was just recognizable.
Emma nodded, letting the dress fall back to it's original place. "It's pretty."
"Yeah, it was our daughters, before she died." He said, Emma looked at the dress sadly, trying to place a young version of the couple within.
"I'm sorry." She said.
"It's quite alright, that's just life and death, child, nothin' to be sorry about, 'less you're the one that took a life that is." He nodded towards the dress. "Try it on." He said.
"Now?" She asked, he nodded once more. "Could you-" She urged towards the open door for some privacy.
"You ain't got nothing to hide, do ya?" He asked.
She wanted to run, she didn't like the way he was looking at her, the way he was pushing her. "It probably won't even fit, it's fine." Emma excused, hanging the dress up once more.
"I said try it on." Mr. Wyatt wouldn't budge. Emma's throat went dry and she stripped of her clothes, she hadn't been developed enough to need a bra, so she was without one and exposed to his big, wandering eyes. It took all she had not to cry, and stay strong as she changed into the frilly material. "Looks good." He winked. "Wear it to dinner, it'll be served soon." And he was gone, only then did she let out a breath she'd been withholding shakily.
Emma unpacked her things and sat on the bed, she hoped this would be as bad as it got, she hoped with all she could this would be as bad as it got.
"Dinner!" Came the voice of Miss Caroline from downstairs. Emma moved through the labyrinthine halls trying to find to find the room she did seek. After a minute or two she stumbled into the kitchen, tripping over a loose floorboard.
"Sorry." She muttered, even though she hadn't done anything. Emma took the empty seat by on the left side of the large rectangular table. The Mr and Mrs sat at either head. They ate pork chops and vegetable medley along with fried potatoes. Emma smiled at the first substantial meal she'd had in weeks.
"This is good, thank you." She smiled to the woman, avoiding all eye contact with her spouse. Emma went to take another bite out of the meat, when it fell off her fork and the juicy white meat left a meaty stain on the white lace. Before she could ever apologize or comprehend, Mr. Wyatt was grabbing her by the arm with one hand and giving her a hard slap with the other.
"How dare you! You ruined her dress, you little cunt!" He yelled, dropping her to the floor.
"Wyatt, are you insane!" Miss Caroline rushed to aid the girl. "Emma, look at me, are you alright?" Emma touched her cheek, it was sore to the touch, but she nodded in spite of it, she'd felt worse. "Okay, it's okay, I don't know what's gotten into that man." She grumbled, pulling Emma to stand and brushing off the dust she'd gathered from the floor, poking at the stain. "Nothing a little bleach can't fix." She winked, Emma smiled and let her lead her down the stair to the washing machine.
Emma disregarded the suffocating dress, happier to be out of it than she ever would have thought possible. Miss Caroline handed her an old tee and cotton shorts that were just a little too big. Emma traded these new clothes for the dress and put them on after saying 'thank you' once more.
"You don't have to thank me for everything, I'm taking care of you now." The woman smiled, Emma returned it, how was such a kind soul married to that bastard, she wondered.
"Okay," Emma turned her head down shyly, wanting to ask the question but deciding it too soon and too risky. The pair made way hand in hand up the steps and cleaned up the dinner mess together before retiring to the den, where they would watch television until Emma fell asleep sprawled on the couch over the woman's lap.
Caroline looked down at the small girl, she felt for her an knew that she wouldn't be able to handle living with her husband as he continued to abuse her, she would have to confront him about it soon, but the time wasn't right yet.
The woman got up slowly, shifting the girl's weight so she wouldn't take notice to her absence, placing a pillow under her head and a blanket over her thin little body to warm her through the night. With a goodnight, the pressed her index and middle finger to her lips then once again to the little blonde's forehead, and she headed up the stairs.
She entered the room to find Wyatt reading a book, probably something from work, she assumed and moved over to the dresser. As she changed into her gown she could feel his lubricous gaze burning holes into her back, as well as other parts. When she heard him getting off the bed, she moved over to the nightstand and tried to feign busy so she could get out of doing what she knew was coming. She went rigid as she felt his large hands envelope her, he kissed her exposed neck. Caroline squirmed, but he would not concede, she chuckled distressfully.
"I'm not really in the mood, Wyatt." She said.
"Well maybe I can get you into the mood." He murmured and tried to break the ice, but it only proved in causing her further discomfort.
"No, please, not tonight." She begged, he backed off clearly angry.
"Why, is it because of the girl?" He said, loudly. "That little girl deserved what she got! She ruined Maize's dress!" He bit.
"Only because you made her wear it!" She said in a hushed shout. "That was an accident, and the dress is clean! You can't do this again Wyatt, we need to send her back, she doesn't deserve this." Caroline hissed, unable to stop being so resolute.
"So this is my fault, is it?" He asked, and soon invaded her personal space, grabbing her by the both shoulders, he had an overall advantage over her, she felt powerless. Wyatt pushed her onto the bed, hard, and soon her was straddling her, pulling himself out of the pajamas he wore. He slapped his cock on her leg, that was all it took for it to become erect, he was easily weakened by being the powerful one.
Caroline tried not to cry as she had all the times before as he entered her, she was dry and could feel the sapless skin of her embankment ripping away as he pounded into her.
"Ah!" She cried out in agony, he only pressed harder and she was crying now, it hurt so bad, worse than ever. "Wyatt Please this isn't you." She tried to reason.
"That's where you're wrong Carry, this is all me." He said, pounding deep and hard as he said the last four words, she screamed out at the last thrust, tears flowing free as he rolled off of her.
"You're a pig." She uttered, but he'd already fallen asleep, but she lay awake hours into the night, she was praying, praying for young Emma's salvation, praying for herself to find her way away from the dark thoughts that had become less far between, and threatened to take over soon. She sniffed, she had to stay strong, at least until she could help Emma escape, she had to, she couldn't let another innocent die at this man's hand. Man, she thought, he was barely that anymore. With that final thought she fell into a restless sleep.