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Josh
Holding Emily’s stiff body tight against mine, I do my best to rein in the overwhelming anger threatening to take over. Anger is an old friend. I’m familiar with the sensation, but the level of anger I’m feeling now, it’s at an all-time high.
I need to find out who did this to her. I need their blood, like I need air. I’m fucking angry that she didn’t come to me sooner. How long has she been being abused? How long has some fucker been using her for a fucking punching bag?
I’m fucking furious at myself. If I hadn’t been such a weak fucking coward all those years ago, this wouldn’t have happened. I would have kept her. I would have protected her.
Picking her up, I carry her back to my bedroom—exactly where she should be. The sight of the perfectly made-up bed stops me. I know the maids don’t come in here until at least 11:00 a.m.
“Did you make the bed, Emmy?” I ask.
“Yes. Is it not how you want it? I can fix it,” she says, as she tries to shimmy herself down from my body.
“It’s fine. But you don’t need to do that. We have maids who will come in and tidy up every day.”
“I don’t mind doing it. I messed it up. I should clean it,” she mumbles out.
Walking through to the bathroom, I sit her on the vanity while I turn the taps on to run a bath. I’m sure I’ve got some bubbles or shit somewhere in here. Digging through the cabinets, I find a bottle of jasmine bubble bath. I pour a good amount in, testing the water as I strip my shirt over my head.
I can hear Emmy counting quietly behind me. When I turn around, I find her counting the finger spaces between the hanging towels. I’m at a loss for words as I watch her rearrange the towels until they are evenly spaced apart.
Emmy is so transfixed by what she’s doing, she doesn’t notice me come up behind her until I have my arms wrapped around her, my hand covering hers on the towel rail.
Her porcelain white skin is the polar opposite of my tanned and tarnished hand. “The towels are fine, babe. You don’t need to fix anything. You could throw them all down on the floor and I wouldn’t care.”
I lift her hand off the towel rail and drop her arm by her side before trailing my fingertips along her waist, slowly lifting the bottom of her shirt. My shirt. Burying my head into the crook of her neck, I gently kiss up and down.
“Wh-what are you doing?” Emmy asks softly.
“We’re having a bath. And as good as you look in my clothes, you’re not wearing them in the tub.” I lift the shirt over her head. Before she can protest, I drag the track pants down her legs, lifting each foot out one at a time.
“Come on.” Taking her hand, I lead her over to the bath. She steps in and sits down, pulling her knees up to her chest while trying her best to cover herself up.
Smirking down at her, I undo my jeans and kick them off. Stepping into the bath, I sit on the opposite side of her. The water is waist-deep, and although the tub could allow for more of a capacity, I turn the faucet off. I don’t want her whole body to be covered by water.
Grabbing her ankles, I pull until her legs straighten on either side of me. I’m aching to yank her towards me, to make her wrap those thighs around me. I’m aching to be buried into her heat.
“You don’t ever need to hide from me, Emmy.” I pick up a loofah and squirt bodywash onto it.
“I look horrible, Josh. I’m covered in bruises. Why would you want to look at me?” she questions, as she finally raises her head to peer up at me.
“You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. These bruises don’t hinder your beauty, babe.” I gently run the loofah up and down each of her arms. She stares at me, silently.
“Can I ask you a question?” she prompts, her voice cautious.
“There isn’t anything you can’t ask me. I can’t guarantee you’ll like the answers, but I won’t ever lie to you.”
“Do you know someone else named Emmy?”
I’m not sure what I was expecting her to ask, but that was not it. I laugh. “No, I don’t. Why?”
“Then why do you have my name tattooed across your heart?” Her hand reaches out, her fingertips tracing over the lettering that runs across the middle of my chest.
“I had this done the day after… the day after our senior graduation. I have your name on my heart, because you are the only person I’ve ever loved. You are the only person I love.”
Her hand stills and she removes it from me. I want her hands back on me. I want her touching me.
“If you loved me, then why did you make me leave?” There’s a tiny flame of fire in her eyes, a tiny flame of the old Emmy.
