The Carrero Effect Trilogy

Chapter 16

I tidy up and make breakfast for us in the morning light, with scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee. I smile as Sophie wanders through, already dressed in a hoody, jeans, and sneakers, her hair in a boyish ponytail. She's an early riser like me.

She sits awkwardly at the table as though she feels like she should be helping, but I brush it away with a warm, beaming smile and put her plate and mug in front of her. I genuinely like the girl, even after a brief time; there's something about her. I sit down to face her and let her eat for a few minutes as I only pick at mine. My appetite is gone knowing we'll see my mother this morning, and teenage anxiety is in full force.

"So, Sophie, tell me about you. How did you end up here in West Englewood?" I keep my tone bright and easy, knowing if she's as guarded a person as I am, she will never open up if I don't tread carefully. She hesitates.

"I ran away from home. I had enough money to get on a bus, so I chose the first one. It brought me here, and I found the homeless shelter." She avoids looking at me while she speaks, the telltale tinge of color high on her cheeks. She's trying to sound nonchalant, but her body language gives her away. Her fork rattles lightly, showing her hands are trembling.

"Who, or what, were you running from?" I coax gently, lifting my mug and sipping slowly, trying not to stare and act like I'm engrossed in my cup. I used to hate coffee, but somehow, Jake got me used to it as he does with everything else. It reminds me of him.

"My dad." She flushes, entirely red in the face, and shifts in her chair. I bite my lip, holding back the feeling that rises inside me, a bottomless heavy pit of sadness for this girl, as I click on why that might be. Showing too much emotion will make her clam up, and offering any form of sympathy will only bring her walls up fast.

"Physical or sexual?" I can almost see into her soul instantly, and I can't tear my gaze away. I can sense that she doesn't want to shut me out, even though it's hard for her to say the words. She's offering me a little insight, although she shudders. I'd hit the nail on the head.

"Both." A single tear edges its way out from her eye, and she brushes it away, tightening her face, reigning in pain and replacing it with a defiant look. She's like a mirror image of my teen Emma. Seeing it on someone else for the first time causes me so much conflict my heart breaks for her.

Is this what Jake sees when I let him in, only for me to close that door? Look hopeless and vulnerable, then shut it down with fire and aggression. Do I do that?

I swallow hard, pushing the thought away, and focus on her face.

"They haven't tried to find you?" I probe gently, trying to feel out the situation and not dwelling on what she wouldn't want me to pick at. My throat tightens with the feeling.

"My mother told me to go. She gave me what money she had so I could get far away from him." She still can't make eye contact, and the rage inside of me swells on her behalf. A mother just like mine, yet Sophie had the misfortune to fall into the lap of another who would never protect her.

"What are your plans now that you're here?" I push on, wanting to know if she has tied herself to my mother for the long term.

"Jocelyn enrolled me in school, but we never really decided how long I would stay - indefinitely, I guess. I don't have anywhere else to go, so until I finish school, I'll be here." She sips her coffee and glances back at me with wide-eyed mistrust. A deep weight hits low in my stomach, knowing that, for the foreseeable future, she will be in my mother's life under her care. I just can't.

"My mother is no good for you, Sophie. She's not the protector and carer that she pretends to be. This … incident; it's not a one-off." I want her to understand that staying here will not benefit her in any way. Her eyes flick to me quickly, and I see her hesitation and fear; she thinks I'm telling her she needs to go.

"Sophie, I would like to take you back to New York with me when I leave. I have friends who work with abused children, who can find you a better life than this." I lock eyes sincerely, knowing I can't let the circle of abuse continue. I can't let this girl have the life I had.

Jake's mother helps run a charity for damaged children; she will know what to do, find her a shelter or foster home, and protect her. Jake would do that for me; I know, without hesitation, that he would do that for Sophie if I asked him.

"I can't just leave her; she needs me to help look after her. She was so kind to me and gave me a room here instead of at the shelter," she protests with wide eyes, dropping her fork in alarm. Her panic is evident.

And therein, her determined response, I see teen Emma shining through. My mother has woven her pathetic spell over this girl, just as she had done to me for all those years. That need to protect her, make excuses for her, guilt at leaving her. I sigh dejectedly; I love my mother because she's my mother, but I don't love who she can be. I shake my head apologetically.

"Sophie, my mother, will always be a victim in her own life because it's the path she chooses over everyone else. She'll do it to you too, no matter how much you do for her." I reach out and cover her small, smooth hand with mine, relieved that she doesn't pull away.

"She won't be the one who hits you, calls you names, and abuses you, but she will stand by and let them and do nothing to protect you. She'll look at you like you're to blame when she loses another precious man who can't keep his hands to himself." As my eyes fill with emotion, I realize that this girl is probably the first person in the world that I've opened up to in this way, without coercion-mini Emma. I'll not leave her here when I go; I'll make her life something I'd always dreamed of. I can't explain why the feeling is so powerful, but I know I have to save her.

"I can promise you, Sophie, I'm not her. I'm nothing like her. I'll do everything in my power to change your life and protect you."

I swear, I will.

Sophie finally looks up at me, and a silent message passes between us, a bond between kindred souls who recognize each other's pain, the recognition of a fellow sufferer who understands. She nods as a tear silently slides down her adorable face. There is dampness on my cheek as quenched emotions slide out, surprising me. She tightens her fingers into mine, a small gesture, an instant bond with both young teen Emma and mature adult Emma. I can see myself in her eyes, and she believes in my genuine concern and conviction. She'll let me take her away from all of this, and I'll save at least one soul from my mother's all-consuming energy and her train wreck of a life.

***

The hospital is like every other: clinical, white and blue, sterile halls and rooms, and the pungent odor of chemicals with a dingy taint in the air. Sophie is holding my hand as we walk, and she looks so noticeably young and afraid. My gut instinct is to haul her close to my side and place a protective arm around her shoulders, making me smile. Who knew I was maternal? I do precisely that and meet no resistance from her. Thanks to his overly familiar, hands-on way of life, Jake has turned me into an expressive person like him, but I'm not annoyed by it.

Does he see me this way? Is this why he's so hands-on?

Seeing glimpses of unsure, scared Emma under the mask, he strongly wants to protect me. The thought warms me inside, and I miss him so severely that it aches in the depths of my stomach.

Sophie seems to relax in my embrace as we walk in companionable silence. We may have only just met, but we both sense a deep, instant connection I've never felt with anyone else. It's almost as though I've just discovered a little sister with my story to tell.

We finally enter the room, and I get my first glimpse of my mother. I release Sophie, and she swiftly goes to her bedside and lifts her hand tenderly. I can't deny the genuine love I see in Sophie's face, yet I feel only irritation.

My mother's appearance causes me to take a sharp breath, but I steady myself to hide it. I must be strong for the girl's sake, be her rock like no one ever was for me.

My mother's face is swollen, bruised, and scraped up, almost beyond recognition. It makes me feel sick to my stomach. Her left arm is cast, and her body, concealed by covers and sheets, looks thinner and more fragile than I remember. I scan the clipboard of notes to determine that most of her injuries are minor; the broken arm and the concussion seem to be the worst. She moves her head as she wakes and clasps Sophie's hand, a feeble smile on her face. She hasn't seen me yet, and I hold back.

"Emma is here," Sophie breathes softly and looks toward me with a smile. Her blue eyes are cloudy with the strain of trying not to cry. It tugs at my heart as my mother's face follows, breaking into a wavering smile when she sees me.

"Emma! My little girl." She releases Sophie's hand and reaches out to me, her other one bound in a cast and strapped to her chest. I hesitate, straightening my tailored pants and blouse, then walk toward her dutifully, bracing myself to stay calm and in control.

"Mother." I take her hand; it's cold and smooth but feels like skin and bone, angering me. She's not eating properly again, so she's caught up in another heart affair and bogged down with infatuation. She was always good at ignoring her basic needs when wrapped up in another unhealthy relationship. "It's so good to see you. You came home to Chicago for me!" Her voice is soft and injured, causing my reaction to catch in my throat. Guilt, tears, anger, and chaos of emotions hit me, and I can't look her in the face, already uncomfortable holding her hand. I glare out the window, seeing the Chicago skyline and the dull weather outside, trying to remain impassive and steel against all she makes me feel. I want her to cut the crap with the over-sentimental greeting; it's purely for Sophie's benefit.

"What have you told the police?" I retort. I don't want to do this tear-jerking, deep conversation crap with her. I want to make sure she's okay and healing. Then I want to get the hell out of this place as soon as earthly possible.

"Emma, please? You know it's never that straightforward," she whines, and I bristle and drop her hand coldly. My face snaps around to lock eyes with her in impulsive rage. It's the same old familiar conversation.

"You're kidding me, right?" I snort in disbelief, spinning my body around to match my glare.

"You have no idea, Emma. You don't know what happened." Her voice seems suddenly stronger, losing all ounce of vulnerability now that my anger at her begins to show.

"I don't need to; it never changes. Who was it this time? Another five-minute romance? Or is this someone long-term? How often has this one hit you, huh?" I snap, my temper getting the better of me. Sophie moves off to sit in the corner; she looks uncomfortable and wide-eyed, making me feel guilty. She doesn't need to see all this.

"That is none of your concern! This is my life and affects only me!" my mother snaps back at me, yanking her hand back to her chest in anger. Not so frail now.

"Don't you fucking dare! What about Sophie? What about justice? What about me? It affects all of us!" The tears blind me, and I lose it, anger bubbling inside. I storm away, wrapping my arms around myself, and glare out the window, trying to pull it all back in, cool down, and be still.

"I shouldn't have started a fight, Emma. This was as much my fault." The same pathetic cringey voice, the same sorry excuses as she drops the attitude and goes into full-blown victim mode. There will be tears soon.

I can't do this, not again. Coming back was a mistake; this is just a sad repeat of a dozen conversations. I can't hold it in, hold in my anger or the heartbreak. My mother rips out my very soul and throws it to the wolves. She hasn't changed at all; this could be sixteen years ago all over again.

"This was a mistake. I can't be here. I was stupid to think this one might have knocked some real sense into you. I'm taking Sophie to New York with me, away from this bullshit existence that you inflicted on me. Don't even begin to argue." I swing back around at her, my eyes pouring pitifully; she looks shocked at my obvious distress. She has never seen me cry since I was a tiny child. "You've no idea the chaos that you cause. This…," I gesture across her body and injuries, "is only the tip of the iceberg, Mother! I won't let you subject Sophie to more of the same crap." I can't say anything more as my voice breaks, the tears taking over. I shake my head aggressively and walk out fast, unable to say anything or keep myself in check. And I'm not staying to hear her argue or try to bully me into changing my mind. I won't keep being her doormat.

I had already agreed to let Sophie stay at the hospital this morning and gave her some money to get a bus home later, so I don't have to stay and endure this. I have no reason to stay another second, and I blindly storm out, heading straight for the main exit while internally ranting.

I march across the wet car park, shaking and sobbing with my coat in my hands. The driver that Jake hired stands dutifully to open my door as I approach, and I get in. I can't contain everything going on inside my head.

I was stupid to come here! I was a fool to think I could handle this. She will never change. She will never see that she's the one who brings this on. She chooses these men, then makes goddamn excuses for what they do.

It only makes me more determined to take Sophie when I leave. I decide it'll be sooner rather than later, as I can't stay here much longer. She won't talk to the police herself; even I know that. And she will make Sophie lie to them for her too, like she used to make me.

Deny she knew her attacker, and then what? He will be back in a heartbeat. Until the next time when she ends up back here, and then what? Maybe one day, one of them will kill her. Can she not see how what she does affects me and affects Sophie?

I calm down as we drive, wiping my face and bringing rational thoughts back to my head. PA Emma is winning over when faced with too much trauma to cope. My defense mechanism is kicking in and numbing it all away, pushing it down until I am nothing but a cool empty shell.

I gulp down the air, pull it back in, and focus instead on getting away from this place. I hate Chicago! I glare at the passing scenery and feel like I'm suffocating.

I pull out my cell and see an email from Jake, instantly bringing softness to my face and lifting my mood. He always brings me back from the craziness, even when I think nothing will, and I hurry to open it.

"Jake Carrero has sent you an iTunes gift."

"Just Give Me A Reason" by Pink.

I gawp at it with confusion. Sure I'm missing the message. I press play listening to the song, trying to decipher the meaning of sending it, and I can't. I glance at the time of the email and realize he sent it at four in the morning, most likely when he was out with Daniel. This was instead of a drunk dial episode.

The title confuses me. It seems to be a song about learning to love again, yet it causes pain in my chest as I absorb it; it's beautiful and profound, but I can't see the connection. I've no idea what to send back to him. Maybe I shouldn't send anything because he was intoxicated when he sent it. I like that he was thinking of me at that time, though, while surrounded by friends and women, even if it makes no sense.

Maybe it was a mistake, and he'd meant to send something else. Knowing Jake, it was related to his current thought and probably stupidly obvious in his state.

It plagues me as we head back toward my mother's apartment, but it's a welcome distraction. Jake isn't usually cryptic; his songs are all about the title, or at least they typically have some unmistakable message in the lyrics. This time I have no idea.

I intend to pack while waiting for Sophie, as I want us to leave tonight; there's no reason to prolong the agony of this place any longer than that. I slide out of the car and dismiss the driver in front of the shady convenience store, ignoring the two drunk men sprawled on the pavement. It looks as though one of them is lying in a puddle of urine, and I grimace as I scoot past and let myself in the side door.

I turn the corner onto the upper landing, the keys in my hands, ready to let myself in. Noise in front of me causes my head to snap up in reaction, and I take in a dark figure standing against the wall in the shadows. I freeze, blood coursing through me at speed, sending my heart rate up. There's something familiar yet terrifying about the figure. I know they see me too, and I stand still, hoping I don't make it evident that I am rattled. They continue staring back at me.

"Well, well, well," the hoarse, gritty voice comes at me icily, my body recoiling inside and my brain freezing at the sound. Even after all this time, I know that voice, making my insides shrivel.

Ray Vanquis stands five feet away from me like a madman in the shadows, his eyes glinting cruelly before stepping into the light. Six feet of tattooed, menacing rage and muscle, he's the devil from my nightmares. I gasp, and my body goes into high alert, adrenaline coursing as I tremble. Fear grips me, but I stand my ground.

Oh, my god!

"What are you doing here?" I snap coldly, bringing my shorter height up to appear more menacing, attempting to look in control. Ice and hatred are in my voice as teen Emma bristles up, getting ready to defend adult Emma. Every hair stands on end.

"I came by to see Jocelyn … to talk to her." He sounds amused because he thinks I'm intimidated by him, but he keeps his distance. My body vibrates with nerves. I reach into my bag and feel for my cell; it's the only other thing I have that I can use as a weapon besides my keys. I have nothing else, not even my trusty mace, which was constant when I lived here. I think of the baseball bat in my old closet, something I slept with many a night, and wonder if I can get inside to get it, to feel safer while in the presence of this monster.

Would he follow me? Is he going to hurt me?

"What could my mother have to say to you after all this time?" I spit, edging toward the door slowly but keeping my gaze firmly on him as I near him, untrusting. He smirks, and with that look, a light switches on in my head.

Surely not? She wouldn't do this to me, even the way she is. She wouldn't take back Ray after what he did to me and have a relationship with him again, would she?

The confusion, anger, and panic whizzes through my head at a hundred miles an hour. Obviously, he sees the realization dawn on my face, and he grins in that lop-sided sneer he has. He's the one she's been with, who beat her to a pulp. It flashes like a spark in my head, pushing all rational and logical behavior entirely out of sight.

"You bastard!" I scream and lunge without thought, fueled by hatred. My nails and keys slice at his face as I attempt to kick at him. He's surprised by my fierce, impulsive attack, caught off guard, and tries to shield his face as I rain my fists on his head. It's a stupid, insane move. His rage ignites. Grabbing my wrists, he thrusts me hard against the wall, knocking my breath out. He spins me and shoves me roughly into the cold concrete wall with enough force to almost break ribs, and I gasp for air, adrenaline spiking with ferocity. Memories of his attack so many years ago flash through my mind, and I fight back with all my might, pure survival instinct. Pushing myself back hard, using my hands and knees so that I collide with him, I elbow and stamp as he tries to encircle me. Teen Emma is in full rage and fight mode.

I started this, and I know there is no one to save me this time. He's twice my size, multiple times my strength. I'm no match. He lifts me off my feet, squeezing my pinned body with his massive arms so I can't breathe. I begin to gasp. I can't move. Nausea rises with the blackness coming in around me, terrified I'll pass out. I know what he'll do to me if I do. I struggle to pull air into my lungs and focus on staying conscious. My voice lost in an effort to breathe.

Without warning, he violently throws me on the floor in a heap and cackles as I crumble into lifeless submission. He kicks me, so I fall forward into a slump and walks off laughing, amused at his conquest, leaving me broken, devastated, and huddled like a child.

He's achieved the humiliation he desired, satisfied with his little power trip and exertion over me. He's shown me who is still boss as he goes on his way while giving himself a high five, and I want to die. I want the ground to open up and swallow me whole. I break down and cry, crumpled on the floor.

I crawl to my feet, falling against the front door weakly. Sobs rack my body painfully as I pull myself up to rest against the door and drag air into my bruised lungs. My forehead falls against the chipped surface as I try wildly to ground myself and bring some calm back to my despair. My fingers and hands splay across the door as I try to keep my body from self-imploding while shaking violently. Shame descends over me at my defeat, my stupidity. I stand in the shadows gulping down air frantically.

"Emma?" Jake's voice is suddenly behind me. Then he's beside me, hauling me into the warm protective circle of his arms, a crazy surreal instance. His heady scent and warm body envelopes me in safety. It's like being lifted into a bubble of protection, a homecoming, and all I can do is submit.

Oh, my god. Jake, my perfect Jake!

Why is he here? Is this real? Where did he come from?

I don't care right now; I feel like I've been pulled into the warmest warmth of my life, comforted and protected. I love that he's around me. I need him around me, pulling me back from devastation, concealing me from the world.

I need him so badly right now. Maybe I'm dreaming. I hope I'm not.

"Bambina! What's happened? Is it your mother?" His smooth, husky voice is in my hair and ear, and his warm breath on my cheek brings back the calm and sense to my inner world. My sobbing calms at the feel of him. He'll always be my lifebuoy, my lighthouse in the dark.

I shake my head, allowing my arms to creep around his waist, holding onto him tightly, clinging to the familiarity of his body and his skin against mine. I need him more than I need air right now.

He came. He's here. He ignored me telling him not to come. "Give Me A Reason." It was about why he shouldn't come!

It doesn't even surprise me, as Jake never follows the rules. I can't even be angry with him because he's everything I want and need to pull me back from the darkness that almost consumed me moments before.

"Talk to me, Emma. You're scaring me." His voice is raspy, wavering, and I lift my wet face and swallow my emotion. With genuine concern in his eyes, he's looking at me in a way I've never had anyone look at me. He has no idea how he makes me feel or how much he has changed every part of me and my world. I need him. I need his security, calm reasoning and confidence, and way of making everything okay-my protector.

"You just missed the man who tried to rape me at eighteen. He reminded me that I'd never be able to match him," I blurt out painfully, unsure why I'm even telling him this. Because he's really here, I think it's shock, and it just comes out without filter as I begin to shake. I just need to.

"What?" His jaw tightens, and his face breaks into something I never expected to see on him: pure, undiluted fury. He looks terrifying with instant aggression as my words connect with his brain.

"Did he hurt you, Emma?" he snarls, and the air around us is immediately charged with electricity emanating from his pores. I nod, unable to say anymore. I don't recognize this version of Jake. Sure I must look exactly like Sophie did when she admitted her father abused her. Jake curses and lets me go, his body buzzing with tension and power. His high voltage energy crackling, he tenses his jaw and paces across the hall.

"I passed a guy coming in here: tall, stocky, tattooed, with a shaved head … is that him?" His voice grinds through his teeth, revealing a venom in him I've never known him to possess. He scares me like this, and all I can do is nod. "Mother fu …" He turns and speeds down the stairwell pursuing my attacker without a second thought.

Oh, my god, no. Jake, no!