Page 16 of Breaking Emilee

"Why would you do that? You can't just do whatever you want. This is none of your damn business. Why won't you just leave it alone? Why won't you just leave me alone? All you do is push and push. Don't you get that I'm a nobody? No one sees me, nor do they care. So, fuck you Parker." Tears are streaming down my face by the time I'm done. Turning away from him, I blindly reach for my bag because I can't see a damn thing. I need to leave now. My hand touches it, and I throw it up on my shoulder, but the strap breaks again, and that's it, the small thing that breaks me. I fall to the floor, wrapping my arms around myself, screaming why, over and over again.

He sits behind me in less than a second, pulling me onto his lap even though I'm fighting him tooth and nail. "Just leave me alone," I say, trying to pull myself out of his grip and off the floor.

All that makes him do is tighten his hold on me. "Fuck that, I can't, and I won't," he yells.

"Yes, you can. I'm a nobody. Just let me go. I want to die. I don't want to do this anymore."

"Fuck that, Butterfly. You aren't leaving me." He sounds broken, just like me. He holds me tight till I stop fighting him. When I'm finally calm, he stands up placing his arms under my knees, picking me up and places me on his bed. He kneels between my legs, so we are face to face. "Em, baby. I'm doing this because I care about you and want to help you. I can't do that if you continue to push me away and lie to me. I am not going anywhere."

His fingers go to the bottom of my hoodie, and I know what he wants. I don't have the energy to fight with him anymore. My eyes land on the clock when I look up from my lap. How the hell has only an hour gone by? It's 4:15, and I realize I'll have to go home soon. When the cool air hits my chest, I remember where I am and what is happening. He pulls my hoodie off, leaving me only in a gray tank top. My awful secret is on full display for him.

I see him physically flinch away from me. "Emilee?"

"Everything became too much, Parker. I couldn't control anything happening to me, and I didn't have anyone to talk to. So, I turned to the only pain I can control." My mouth is so dry that it comes out low, and I'm not sure if he hears me.

I guess he does hear me because he nods as he takes my arm and turns it around so he can see all the damage I've done. Both are covered in scars, cuts close to being healed, and the new ones I put there today. There are probably twenty to thirty on each arm, he doesn't know it, but there is even more on my upper thigh. He will never see them anyways, so I don't tell him. "Oh baby," he says so softly. It doesn't look like he's breathing. He brings each arm to his lips, where he kisses each cut. I don't dare move or say anything because I can't believe what he's doing. How is it that the guy I have known for a short time is taking care of me when other people in my life don't even know something is wrong? He looks up at me, and I can see the moisture in his eyes, which sets off another round of tears.

"Baby," I say, pulling my hand out of his and cupping his face.

He turns his face into my palm and closes his eyes. That's it. I can't take it anymore. I stand up, pulling him with me. Turning him around, I push him to sit, crawl into his lap and mold myself to him. Wrapping my arms around him, I hold this man who is crying for me. Neither of us says anything until I look at his alarm clock. "If we are going to get me home in time, we need to start doing some work," I say, even though I don't want to do anything but sit here in his lap.

"Fuck that," he says, standing up with me wrapped around him.

I can't help but squeak, "Parker put me down. I weigh way too much for you to be carrying me." I start trying to get down.

"Stop that, Em," he says while opening the other door attached to his room. When he finally puts me down, I see that we are in his bathroom. Reaching behind me, he turns on the water for the shower. I freeze because I don't know what he's thinking, but I can't shower with him. There is no way that he will be the first to see me naked ever. "What time do you need to be home?" I just stand there with a perplexed look on my face. "What time, Butterfly?" He demands when I don't answer him.

"Seven. But Parker, I can't take a shower with you. No one has ever seen me naked, and I'm sure as shit not going to let you see me. It's bad enough that you're seeing me in my tank top that shows off every roll I have…" His hand comes up and covers my mouth.

"I'm not taking a shower with you, but you are going to take one so you can get that soda out of your hair. Then I'm going to doctor your arms, but Em, don't think that seeing you naked would disgust me for one moment." He says, crowding me till my back is up against the shower door. "Everyone that tells you that you aren't beautiful, sexy, and amazing is fucking stupid. If you hadn't just told me how badly you are being treated and hurting yourself, I wouldn't have any issue showing you what you do to me. Do you understand?" I follow his eyes down, seeing a bulge in his jeans. I did that. No way.

He turns me around, pointing at the shower that is now filled with steam. "Take a shower, Butterfly." He bends down to get some towels out of the cabinet and sits them on the counter. He kisses the back of my neck before he shuts the door. I can hear him open and close his bedroom door as he exits his room.

I'm about to pull my tank top off when I hear the doors open again. I turn around. “What?”

He steps up to me. "I almost forgot. You're done cutting. Do you hear me? No more when it all gets too much, and you need an outlet, call or find me." With that, he turns and once again leaves me alone.

I want to freak out about everything that has happened in the last hour, but I can't let myself do that because I want to get this soda out of my hair more than I want to freak out. I know that the hot water will help me relax more than anything at this point. As I step under the spray, I instantly feel better. Looking around, the only shampoo and body wash I see is his. Oh well, it will have to do right now. I pick up his shampoo and wash my hair twice to ensure the soda is all gone. I can't help but bring it to my nose and smell it before using it. The thought of walking around with his scent on my skin makes a rush of warmth run between my thighs, plus the fact that I, fat ass Emilee Hill made hot boy Parker West get hard.

I rinse off and step out into the bathroom, wrapping myself in the towels on the counter. That's when it hits me. What the fuck am I going to wear home? I laugh out loud because, for a second, I thought that I could borrow something from him. That will not work at all. The only choice I have is to put my dirty clothes back on. Stepping out of the bathroom, I see that Parker had the same thought as I did because on his bed is a shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Shaking my head, I walk past them because I know they will never fit. Opening his door, I hear him talking to someone. I freeze, trying not to make a sound while I listen. Who did he call? Is it the police to report my cutting? Is it Vanessa or Christian? But all my worrying is soon stopped when I hear him say, "I promise Aunt Luna. I know supper is in the slow cooker."

Before he can catch me eavesdropping on his call, I gently step back into his bedroom and shut his door. If I don't brush my hair soon, it will be a fluffy mess. I go in search of a hairbrush. It feels weird going through his stuff, but I need a brush. Finally, finding one, I get lost in my own reflection. "Why did you put them back on?" Jumping because I didn't hear him come in, I look down at my clothes.

"Because I didn't have anything else to wear. I can't fit into your clothes, Parker." He huffs and pulls me into his room, where he places the clothes he laid out into my hands.

"Put them on now."

"Whatever, when I rip them, don't cry to me," I throw at him as I walk back into the bathroom. I really don't want to put them on because it's embarrassing as fuck when clothes are too tight on someone. My stomach churns, and my heart starts to race, but I fight the anxiety and slip the shirt and pants on. My eyes take in my reflection in his mirror, and my eyes go wide as all the fear fades from my body, fuck, they fit me. He's going to gloat. Gathering my clothes, I step into his room and sit them down on my bag.

He looks at me with a shit-eating grin, pats his bed, and says, "Sit."

Rolling my eyes, I do exactly as he says. "Happy?"

He doesn't answer me. Instead, he starts to clean my arm and put ointment on the cuts. "I can do that. You don't have to," I say, trying to take the tube away from him, but he smacks my hand away and points to a plate with a sandwich on it.

"Eat."

"I'm fine. I'm not hungry." Yeah, there's not a chance in hell I'm eating in front of him, no matter how hungry I am.

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