Five
624 Words
Emma…
Darkness surrounds me as I cover my throbbing face with the pillow—drowning out the rest of the world. What did I do this time?
I pull myself up in bed and grab my journal. Poetry has always been my way out; a way to let my emotions free—without consequence.
I finger the worn tatters of the black leather spine of the journal. I open the beloved book and flip to a clean canvas. A canvas—this is my art. I close my eyes to absorb my emotion, using the power of words to paint the picture. The words swim in a sea of dark thick blues. Opening my eyes, I let my ball point pen scribble…
My thoughts spin inside me,
Buzzing all around like a bee;
Growing as high as a tree;
Making me want to flee.
Instantly, I go down to my knee,
Saying a little plea;
These thoughts whispered in my ear,
I pray they will all disappear.
Feeling the dark grow near;
It is all too unclear,
just how severe,
I’m falling.
Falling, falling.
Covering my face, sobbing;
My little heart I’m guarding;
In the dark I’m starving;
Hugging my knees I’m breaking;
This life I’m wasting;
For light I’m craving.
Craving, craving.
To God I’m praying;
The light for my saving;
These thoughts to disappear;
That day would be dear;
To start a new year,
With bright new starts,
And big open hearts.
To feel free,
I wish that were me!
A booming knock echoes through my room and I bolt upright, flipping my journal closed.
“One minute,” I say in a rush to shove my journal into my nightstand and straighten the bed covers.
Rick barges in without warning. “I was being polite with the first knock, don’t make me wait. Be ready for supper by 7:00; Brutus will escort you to the dining room,” he says standing inches from my face.
He lifts his hand to my cheek, and I jump away as fear runs cold through my veins. He briefly hesitates. “I hate leaving marks on your beautiful face.” He rubs his fingers surprisingly gently across the tender spot.
I avoid making eye contact with him but with his dominating personality, he lifts my chin and commands full attention. Our eyes meet. “You know I love you and everything I do is to protect you, don’t you?” Uncertainty shadows his face as if he questions me.
“Of course I know you love me. You provide for me,” I say in a shaky voice as my chest squeezes. My stomach flips as bile rise in my throat. I stare directly into his cold hazel eyes and let out the statement I know he is waiting for. “Thank you, Rick.”
His eyes warm and I fear what is to come next.
He brushes my cheek, again, as he looks down my neck stopping at the top of my shirt. His eyes flame brighter, and he grips the back of my nape, applying force to tilt my head. Squeezing my eyes shut, I ball my fists. His lips brush mine. And he pulls away briefly before he crashes down into my mouth—devouring hungrily. My lips stiffen to a straight line, hard and unwelcoming. He breaks away and places his hands on each side of my face. “My sweet, sweet Emma,” he says in a raspy voice.
I open my eyes, not recognizing his voice.
“YOUR MINE! All mine, sweet girl,” he says kissing the top of my head.
He turns sharply and walks out of the room, leaving me stunned.
His never lost control.
- Writer
