Page 114 of Cuffed (Everyday Heroes 1)
I blink my eyes and know what he’s saying isn’t true, but I can’t remember it all. I can’t remember . . .
“You fell asleep on the couch while I was watching television. I should have put you in bed, but I thought you were sleeping, so I didn’t . . . the nightmare you described was the exact same as on the show. You must have heard it when you were asleep, and then turned it into a dream.” His voice is getting angry like it does when I don’t do what I’m supposed to do.
I shake my head. I fell asleep in my bed. With my Strawberry Shortcake doll under my arm and my rainbow nightlight on the ceiling above me. I never get to fall asleep on the couch.
But my blanket is there. Next to him. Did I bring it out here?
“Mom would be so mad at me if she knew I watched that show with you when you were supposed to be in bed. She’s going to be home any minute, and you know how mad she gets when you stay up late on a school night. Do you want me to bring you back to bed?”
“No.” I can barely say the word. I don’t want him in my room.
“Okay. Come give me a kiss.”
I stare at him, my feet feeling like they weigh more than an elephant’s. He reaches out and pulls me into him and presses his lips against mine. My tummy feels like it’s going to be sick. The feel of his whiskers reminding me of earlier.
Not a dream.
“’Night, sweetheart. Do you love me, Emmy?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Say it.”
“I love you.”
“How much?”
“With all my heart.”
His smile makes me feel like ants are crawling on me. “Get to bed, now.”
I hurry to my bedroom upstairs and shut the door. Then I open it because the darkness brings monsters.
But the monster is downstairs . . .
I struggle for air as I lie in bed and pull the covers tighter around me. The strange surroundings of the hotel room I’m in only add to my discombobulation.
I replay as much of the dream as I can in my head, and one thing stands out above all the rest.
With all my heart.
How could I tell a person who just molested me that I love him?
How could I spend years of my life cutting my arms to deal with the pain a man who was supposed to love me unconditionally caused me?
It all comes back to trust.
The gypsy girls.
I think back to how, while we were on the road, my mom didn’t trust anyone. If someone showed the slightest interest in me—even in the most benign of ways—we moved on to the next city. To the next adventure. To the next place where no one would notice us for a while.
It all comes down to trust.
She didn’t trust anyone with me.
And now? Now I don’t even trust myself.
“You’re slacking on the job, Officer Sexy.” Desi’s voice comes through the phone loud and clear. It causes me to perk up in my seat at the end of a monotonous day and a monster hangover after a few too many beers with my brothers last night.
