Page 17 of Breaking Emilee

"The fuck you're not. I know you didn't finish your lunch, just like me, and I'm starving." He says before picking up half and taking a bite. Once he swallows, he points at the plate again, "Fucking eat, now." Rolling my eyes, I pick up the other half and take a small bite. I can't stop the moan that comes out of my mouth. This man knows how to make a turkey sandwich.

"Is this what you do when you can't sleep at night? And why can't you sleep anyways?" He asks, never stopping what he's doing. My heart starts racing. This is the most that anyone has ever done for me in a long time.

"No, it's not what I do when I can't sleep. I told you I go sit in the cemetery by my house when that happens. This is just when it all becomes too much. As for why I can't sleep sometimes, my brain just won't shut off. It replays everything that has happened."

"Why don't you tell someone like a teacher or your grandparents?" His question is a valid one, but I just can't.

"I told you unless you can play a sport, you don't matter. The teachers see what happens and just overlook it. As for my grandparents, they both work so much, and they are stressed out enough. I don't want to bother them with this. Like I said, I'm pretty much invisible to them. My mind knows that it's fucked up to do this, and trust me, I try hard not to." I shrug my shoulders, "but it's like my brain won't shut up till I do it." I can feel a blush start on my chest.

"How much sleep did you actually get," he asks as a huge yawn overcomes me.

"About an hour and a half, but I'm okay. We need to get started on the project. It's almost five, and I have to be home in a couple of hours," I say, standing up to get my bag. Once again, I'm stopped by him.

"The project can wait. You need to rest after everything today. Get in my bed and take a nap, Butterfly. I'll wake you up when it's time to go. I promise I won't forget." He pulls the cover back, and I stare at him like he has two heads.

"Why are you being so nice to me, Parker? I don't have anything to give you," I say, dropping my head.

"I don't want anything but you, beautiful," he says. "Now get your fine ass up here and take a nap." I don't argue because his bed looks so comfy, and I'm exhausted. I'll freak out about the fine-ass comment later when I'm alone. He can't mean that. Crawling across his bed, I let him pull the covers up on me.

"Thank you," I say just as he leans down and covers my lips with his. That's the second time he has done that today and my heart takes off just like the first time, but this time, I'm quick to put my hands in his hair and kiss him back even harder.

When he pulls back, he has a grin on his face "no need to thank me, baby." I can only sleep for thirty minutes, but it doesn't take long for my eyes to get heavy, and I'm asleep. Wrapped up in the smell of him and feeling safe for the first time in a while.

CHAPTERELEVEN

Sitting at my desk, the urge to lay down with her and hold her till I take her home is strong, but I can’t give in to it. Sighing, I let my head fall into my hands; everything she confided in me swirls around and around. My thoughts never stay on one problem for too long. I can’t believe everything she’s going through is because of a stupid fight. So what? She had a curfew and couldn’t stay out later. There has to be more than just that. Something else had to have been going on underneath the surface. Her curfew was just a bullshit reason to start a fight but not the real reason this was happening. I feel it in my gut.

Even though I don’t believe their reasons, the solution is right in front of me. Either they agreed to leave her alone, or they could get a taste of their own medicine. I’m usually a levelheaded guy, but when you push me too far, I tend to lose it, and right now, my restraint is like a rubber band being pulled too tight. Looking back at my Butterfly, her face is relaxed, and she looks peaceful for the first time since I’ve met her. My chest expands with pride seeing her cuddled up, feeling safe in my bed, where I want to keep her forever. The need to go find them and strangle them both becomes so overwhelming. I need to calm down. I quietly hook my phone to the little speaker on my desk and hit play on my playlist. Music always helps me settle down.

I got the feeling that she thinks she’ll be seen as weak if she asks for help, but she has to know that is absurd. I can’t believe she goes home every day, and no one in that house sees something wrong with her. All you need to do is look at her. You can tell she is just a shell of a person. I knew something was happening, but I never expected her to be cutting herself. When I saw the cuts on her arms, I almost lost all control over my emotions. I wanted to yell at her but, at the same time, cry for her. My heart finally broke seeing her break down, yelling that she wanted to die. How can someone be so low that they want to end their life? It doesn’t matter. All that does is that I’m going to help her, even if I’m in over my head. Bullies I can handle but cutting I know nothing about. I need to figure out more about this. It sucks that Em doesn’t want to tell anyone because I know my aunt would help her in a second, but I can’t force her to tell, right?

I’m so confused and don’t really know where to start. I sit here, getting lost in the soft music coming from my speaker. The song starts to break up, and I move my laptop to see what is happening. As soon as my hands touch my computer, it’s like my brain remembers I have a world of knowledge at my fingertips. Forgetting the speaker, I open my laptop and pull up Google. Not knowing what to search for, I type in cutting yourself. That brings up six hundred and ninety-one million results, which is a little overwhelming, but I guess I should start with the first link.

The website is for a crisis text line which is a great thing for someone cutting, but it doesn’t say anything about what to do if someone you know is doing it. I bookmark the website and take down the number. I know logically, the best thing for her to do is to tell an adult, but from what she told me, there isn’t an adult in her life that cares enough to help her. No, the only person she has to lean on is me. Not seeing the information I really needed, I refined my search to helping someone who self-harms. Finally, the results seem to hold what I want. Remembering she has to be home by seven, I set the alarm for 6:15, giving her about an hour to sleep.

Pulling a notebook out of my desk, I start writing down what the different articles say to do. Many repeat the same information, but they are full of great advice. According to most of them, I need to listen, let her know there are other options for her to deal with her emotions, encourage her to stop, and lastly, try to get her to see a doctor. I’m sure the last one won’t go over great, but I can do the others myself. Before I realize it, I’m on page six of the search results, and an hour has passed. I stretch my fingers, trying to get the cramp from writing to much to go away. My phone vibrates, letting me know it’s time to wake her up. I shut the alarm off. I don’t want to wake her up, but I know I need to talk to her before she goes home.

She’s still laying on the left side of my bed, facing my desk. I crawl into the empty side of my bed. I can’t help but stare at her. A piece of her hair has fallen over her face. I gently move it and tuck it behind her ear. It’s super soft, and my hand tingles from touching it. I still remember what it felt like holding her in my arms, and I want that feeling of being home and safe back. Even if it’s only five minutes before I wake her up and bring her back to her reality. As soon as my back hits the mattress, she instantly nestles herself against me, throwing her right arm over me and laying her head on my chest. I never want to move again. She feels so good in my arms. Like she was made to be in them. I never want her to leave me or my bed, where I know she is safe, and I can show her how much I care about her. How is it that I have only known her a week, but I already have these thoughts?

A sigh falls from my lips because even though I hate the thought of doing it, I have to wake her up. I press my lips to her forehead and whisper her name, “Emilee, baby, it’s time for you to wake up.” She doesn’t smell like herself. Instead, she smells like me, making my dick jump in my jeans. I want this girl so bad, but I need to help her before I even allow myself to go there. She starts to stir and opens her eyes. Even after an hour’s nap, exhaustion is still written all over her face. I feel so bad for waking her up, but I don’t know what trouble she’ll get into if she’s late.

“What time is it,” she asks while pulling away from me. I tighten my grip on her waist, not letting her move an inch.

“It’s about 6:25. I wanted to let you sleep a little bit more, but we need to talk before you head home.” I don’t want to make her emotional again because her tears kill me and make me want to murder everyone who hurts her. However, we need to talk about her hurting herself. She really needs to stop. I can’t make her do that like I can and will make them leave her alone as soon as I have proof that they can’t deny it.

Sitting up, she pulls the sleeves of my shirt down and looks at her lap. “Parker, I’m sorry I unloaded all of that onto your shoulders. It’s not as bad as it seems. I promise I can handle it all.” Before I sit up, I fill my lungs full of air and slowly release it. I can see her pulling back into herself, which isn’t going to work.

Pushing up off the bed so we are shoulder to shoulder, I lift her chin, making sure she’s looking me in the eyes before I say, “What did I tell you before you went to sleep? You are no longer alone. I mean it, no more cutting Em.” My tone says I’m not playing around anymore. I watch her throat bob as she swallows. Standing up, I get the notebook off my desk and place it on her lap. “While you were asleep, I decided to research what I could do to help you.”

I hear the sharp air intake when she sees all the information I wrote down. Her eyes are wide, and surprise is written in them. “Why?”

“I told you earlier when you asked me the same question. I want you, and I don’t want you doing this anymore. I’m going to be someone that you can trust. Someone you can turn to. I am going to protect you. It kills me knowing that you are doing this to yourself,” I say, leaning forward to brush my fingers along her cheek.

As I settle on the edge of the bed, she doesn’t say anything but instead starts to read. I sit there and watch her, afraid that if I say something, it might scare her. I’m so out of my element here, and I don’t want to say or do anything wrong. I have to earn her trust, and I hope this is a step in the right direction. She lays the notebook beside her when she finishes and crawls into my lap again. My lungs forget how to work as she wraps her arms around my neck, bringing her lips to mine. My heart starts trying to escape my chest when she opens up for me. Slipping inside her warm mouth, I seek out her tongue with mine.

The kiss turns frantic, and I can’t get her close enough to me. I pull her down hard on my straining erection. She starts to rock back and forth, drawing a moan from my mouth. Slipping my hand under her shirt, I start rubbing her back as she lowers her hands in my hair, running her nails on my scalp. I can’t help but groan into her mouth. I want nothing more than to lay her on my bed and feast on her like the starving man I am, but our time is running out. Slowly I pull back from her and wait for her to open her eyes. When she does, they are full of lust and need. “Baby, I would give my left arm to stay here and finish this, but we have to get you home. Plus, you have had a very stressful day.”

She looks at the clock on the wall behind my head and is up off my lap like I lit a fire under her ass. “Shit, it’s almost 6:45. I have to be home in fifteen minutes. How long were we making out?” She frantically says. “Where are my clothes, Parker?” Readjusting myself, I stand up and go to the dresser to get her pants off the top.

---