Page 37 of Breaking Emilee

Slowly I pull my eyes from him, and they land on the one person I never thought would hurt me. Parker is no longer kissing her, but she still has her hands around his neck, and now his hands are on her arms. I open my mouth to say something but once again, nothing but a cry comes out. I’m finally able to stand up from the floor. How long has it been since I walked in here? It feels like hours, but it can't have been a couple of minutes. Christian steps into me, cutting off my view of Parker. "Happy Birthday bitch. How does it feel to be completely embarrassed in front of everyone, just like I was? We have taken everything from you. Once your grandparents learn about all of this, they will send you away." I stumble back like he smacked me across my face. He’s right; they have taken everything away from me. They took my friends, soon my family, Parker but most importantly, they just took my will to live away from me. I turn and shove the doors open, running away and not looking back. My bag slips from my shoulders, but I don't care enough to stop and pick it up.

I just start running straight past the art building and through the school's back parking lot. My legs burn, and the muscle in my side cramp, but I don’t slow down or stop. If I stop, I’ll crumble and never get back up. The constant flow of tears blurs my vision so badly that I trip and fall multiple times, but I push myself back up, never stopping. I feel the snot from my nose flow over my lips, and I suppress a gag. I loved him. I placed all my trust in Parker. How could I have been so wrong?

I should have listened to my head instead of my gullible heart. Do I deserve all this pain? I move on autopilot, taking turns without thinking. In the distance, I can see the blue house I’m heading toward, my uncles. Standing outside, he sees me as I collapse in the yard on my hands and knees. My chest is heaving as I suck in air through my labored breaths. My ears are ringing, blocking out any outside noise so I don’t hear him walk up or the questions I’m sure he is asking me.

“Period… need… home…” is the only words I’m able to push out of my mouth. I have shown up here before needing a ride home because my period came unexpectedly. Sitting back on my legs, I watch him walk into the house. I take it he understood me. My legs shake as I push up from the cold, wet ground and head toward his truck.

The drive from town to my home takes barely five minutes, but with my uncle, it always takes longer. The only sound filling the truck is the tires on the pavement and our breaths. While I’m not breathing hard anymore, my body is still shaking, my heart is still trying to get out of my chest, and thoughts swirl in my head. Closing my eyes, I try to even out my breathing but as soon as the light cuts off, a sick movie starts playing. I see everything terrible that has happened in my short life. All the hurtful words play like the soundtrack. I see all the interactions with Parker but in a different light. I see them for what they are ways to gather the information I keep close to me. I hear him say, “I never break my promises.” I guess he does when it comes to people he doesn’t like. Why did God allow me to be born if no one wanted me?

“Emilee, what in god’s name is going on?” My Uncle’s scared voice cuts through the onslaught of memories. I open my eyes to see the edge of town disappear as we turn onto the final road that will take me home. A buzzing sound reaches my ears, and I realize my phone is going off non-stop. Leaning up, I pull it from my back pocket as it buzzes one more time with a new text lighting up the screen. I have multiple messages and a notification from Facebook saying I’ve been tagged in a post. Staring at the three messages I can see; I would give anything to go back to being invisible.

Unknown Number:Damn Emilee, if I knew you were so desperate for attention, I would have gladly given you some for a price, that is, loser.

Unknown Number:I knew you wore hoodies to hide your body, but who knew you were that fat under there?

Unknown Number:You actually thought Parker West would be interested in someone like you. Fat cow.

“Nothing Uncle Charlie. Nothing is going on.” I finally answer him around the lump in my throat. I close out of the messages and click on the Facebook notification. When the post fills my screen, my grip on the phone loosens, the shaking stops, and my heart ceases to beat. Filling the screen is the picture I sent Parker, the one he swore I looked hot in, posted on the internet for everyone to see. My stomach curls as the biles rises. At first, I don’t notice the name of who posted it, but as my gaze lands on the top, I see Parker West in bold black letters. What? Of course, he lied when I asked him about having a social media profile. The number next to the comments keep going up, and I click on them. It’s like a car wreck; if you see it, you slow down to get a better look. I know I shouldn’t, but I have to see what people are saying.

At first, nothing I see shocks me. It’s normal; she’s fat and ugly. I’m surprised they make clothes that big, or the camera didn’t break; what a surprise. They are left by random people and people that I go to school with. One comment catches my eye.

Vanessa: I can't believe she fell for it. She really thought that Parker was falling for her and wanted to be with her. I asked him to befriend her and find out everything he could so I could show everyone how pathetic she really was.

Just as I get done reading hers, a new one comes in, pushing them up my screen so I can see the comment that ends it all for me. It solidifies that I never knew Parker like I thought I did. All the times I swore I saw the truth, admiration, lust, and what I swore was love in his eyes was all an act, a perfect act indeed.

Parker: I know, Butterfly. It wasn't hard to get her to believe I was into her. What is hard is having to tell her that I thought she was beautiful, and act attracted to her. I wanted to throw up every time. I’m so glad that I can finally say what I think. She is the most disgusting, fat, smelly person I have ever seen. Emilee Hill, I would not touch you if you were the last person on the earth. I am Vanessa's man, always have been, and always will be.

I put my phone in my pocket as the rubber band around my chest pulls tighter, a gasp leaves my lips, and I can taste bile in the back of my throat. What about last night was that all an act as well? My vision is fuzzy, but as the truck slows down, I see the trailer sitting in front of me. When the truck comes to a complete stop, I push open the door just in time to expel everything in my stomach. Wiping my mouth on my sleeve, I shut the truck door and head to the front door, knowing what awaits me. I’m done, finished. I can’t hear or see anything, but worst of all, I can’t feel anything. For five months, I have fought hard to keep a sliver of sanity, to keep looking toward the future, promising myself it would get better and that someone cared enough about me out there, but all of it was for nothing. It never gets better. No one cares. Hell, I even hate myself now.

In this checked-out state, I don’t pay attention to the extra cars in the driveway or the fact that the door is unlocked. When I walk through the living room, I’m unaware of my grandfather getting up from the chair with a worried look on his face or my Nana throwing the chair back as she takes in my red, blotchy, tear-stained face. Turning right, I head straight to the bathroom, the same one that holds all my secrets. Shutting the door, I turn the lock keeping everyone out. Underneath the sink, I find the only thing I can think of right now, the little black zip-up case that holds the instruments that will end me forever.

Sitting it on the white countertop, I pull off the black hoodie I wore to reveal the white tank top underneath. “You are mine.”I hear Parker’s voice as I grab the cold metal of the scissors I keep in the case. “I promise I won’t hurt you,”I don’t feel the pain of the sharp edge piercing the skin as I place it in the crook of my arm. “I never want to let you go.”Pushing as hard as I can, I watch the scissors slice open my skin as easily as if I was a piece of paper. Blood gushes out of the long cut, running down my hand and dripping onto the white wood floor below. Wiping my left hand on my shirt, I repeat the same motion on my right arm. I’ve stopped hearing Parker’s voice, I’m no longer in my body, but I’m back at school watching the boy I loved and trusted shove his tongue down my tormentor’s throat.

A crash sounds behind me as wood splinters fly around me. My body is pushed forward as something collides with my back. The world around me tips as I’m spun and stops when I’m face to face with my Papa. His mouth is moving, his eyes wide with shock, and sweat is pouring down his face. I feel my hand being pulled up, and he tries to pull the scissors from my hand. I pull back and use my weight to push past him. “Fuck this.” Rips from my throat, leaving an ache behind. My vision becomes tunneled, and all I see is their bedroom at the other end of the trailer.

The scissors tumble out of my hand as they become slippery with the amount of blood flowing out of my arms. No one else touches me or tries to stop me. I have a clear path, but my mind is far from clear. Everyone in this damn house has been too wrapped up in themselves for months to notice that I’m living in hell. No one notices how I struggle to keep my head above water so I can breathe most days. The image of Parker and Vanessa morphs into an image of everyone, my family, them and Christian standing in front of me laughing, pointing, and saying how better off they are without me.

Like a beacon drawing me to it, the floor-to-ceiling gun safe placed on the back wall of the trailer says my name and tells me it holds the answer to my problem. It’s only two more steps away. My hand slips from the handle when I try to pull it open. I wipe the blood on my pants and try again. When it opens without hesitation, I breathe easier. The light glints off the metal of the one thing that will end it in a second, a lot quicker than bleeding to death. As the cold metal of the gun touches my palm, the sound of my heartbeat leaves my ears, the ache in my chest goes away, and calm washes over me. I know this is what I have to do in order to feel this calm, peaceful way forever.

My Nana’s voice reaches me as she screams about how much blood is in the bathroom and how someone needs to get here fast. The stomps of cowboy boots tell me my grandfather is moving through the living room, heading this way. “Emilee.” His voice, laced with emotions, comes from the doorway behind me.

Turning around, the room sways as I get more and more lightheaded. My strength is starting to fade, and I grip the handle as tightly as possible. Raising my hand and turning the barrel to face me, I open my mouth and taste the cold bitterness of sweet freedom. His eyes get as big as saucers, and he opens his mouth to yell something, but I can’t hear it.

I want the pain in my chest to stop. There is only one way for it all to stop, all the pain, the hurt, the hatred, the invisibility, and the lies. I can’t take it anymore. I move my pointer finger backward on the trigger pulling it to the back of the gun. How poetic will it be that my eighteen birthday will also be the day I die. Closing my eyes, I pull the trigger all the way as a calmness I have never felt before rushes over my body, and I fall hard to the floor behind me. Happy Birthday, Emilee.

EPILOGUE

Pushing this bitch off of me takes all my strength. She doesn’t like me trying to shove her off, but she has to get the fuck off of me. I feel like I will get sick if she doesn’t remove herself from me soon. “What the fuck are you doing, Vanessa?” I spit in her face. As I’m about to lay into her, I hear a strangled sob from my right. I’ve heard that cry before. Fuck! No! Looking toward the doors, my heart plummets to the floor, and the only word that goes through my head is No. My girl is bent, holding herself around her stomach and looking at the floor.

I need to get to Em and tell her this isn’t what it looks like. Vanessa stopped me as soon as I got in here and was on me before I could stop her. The truth hits me like a train. This is all a setup to hurt my girl, and they used me to do it. Fury races through me at lightning speed, someone is going to pay with their blood today, but first, I have to get to the girl who holds my heart. She has to know that I would never do this. We just spent the most amazing day yesterday starting our new chapter. She has to believe that I wouldn’t do this. I just got her. I don’t; no, I can’t lose her now. She has to listen to me.

However, before I can take one step toward her, Christian walks over and holds a piece of paper under her still bowed head. I start to move toward them when a hand hits my chest. Looking down, Vanessa is pressing a piece of paper into my chest. I haven’t paid any attention to them before now, but looking around, I see they are everywhere. Snatching it out of her hand, I take the first step toward my girl, but when my eyes land on the paper, I freeze again. It’s the messages from Em. Plus, some that I’ve never seen before. My hands start to shake. I’m so pissed off. Who did this? I didn’t send these to anyone, so how are they on this paper?

I spin back toward Vanessa so fast that my shoes squeak on the tile floor. I open my mouth to ask her what the fuck she has done but the satisfied smile that spreads on her face makes me stop. Her eyes are on the doors behind me, when I turn around I see Emilee crumbled on the floor. The need to stay and have it out with the bitch behind me and the asshole in front of me dissipates because Emilee needs me. She comes before everyone and everything in my life now. Before I can take a step toward my whole world, Em stands up and runs out the doors. A hand grabbing my arms stops me from following her. “Parker, don’t.”

Pulling my arm away from her, I take off after my girl whose heart is breaking, and so is mine, but I just haven’t had time to let it consume me. As I rush to the cafeteria door, I push past Christian, and I could have sworn he said, “Happy Birthday Bitch”. I know she won’t be there when I open the door, but I have to look. I’m right; she is nowhere to be seen. Leaning my head back, I scream to the sky, “Fuck.” Sitting in the walkway is her bag, ripped just like my soul.

Picking it up, I turn around and storm back into the cafeteria, where the teachers have gathered all the papers off the walls and the floors. If someone were to walk in here, they would have never guessed that one of the students was just crushed. No one is acting any different they all are going about eating their lunches. What the fuck is wrong with everyone.

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