FicWad

SIX

Emma shivered as the door creaked open and a shadow was thrown onto the smooth wood of the foreign porch. She clutched Frank's hand like a lifeline, her fingers shaking, but face set and determined. He stole a glance, gathering courage from her façade and he watched a face appear.

The face was smooth, with sweet light-brown eyes. A woman, in her mid-twenties, peered out in confusion. Her hair hung in loose, natural curls, and her dress was of simple blue cotton. The woman was tall, perhaps five-foot-eight, but her stature was not threatening, but rather homely and gracious. But Emma ignored her features, eyes zeroing in instead on the obvious baby bump on which the woman's hand rested. Tears threatened her eyes, but Emma blinked rapidly before gazing, childlike, into the woman's face. Her voice failed her, and she nudged Frank, who awkwardly cleared his throat.

"We're sorry to disturb you, ma'am, but we… well…" He paused, scratching the back of his head in his nervous state, not sure how to continue.

"We ran away," Emma blurted out. And the word was out. The woman's gentle eyes widened as she gazed from Emma to Frank and back again.

"Johnny!" she called, her eyes never leaving the runaways'. More footsteps sounded, and Frank braced himself. These steps were louder, by a broader foot.

"What have we got here, Sarah?" The voice came before the face, and was not fitting to the first impression of the speaker. The voice was quiet and gentle, a low growl, almost like a puppy putting on an adorable brave front before a bug. But the man was large and broad-shouldered, seeming to take up all the space in the glimpse of the main hallway they had. Muscular with intimidating size, paired with shoes as big as Emma's head, and the largest straw hat Emma had ever seen partially covered his vast forehead. Blue eyes stared down at them, the color of ice, so like Bob's that she actually shivered and inched closer to Frank in her immediate fear.

"We got a pair of runaways here, Johnny," the woman said, the man's arms winding gently around her delicate shoulders and drawing her close to his large side.

"You ran? From what?" Johnny seemed skeptic, protective as he noticed their tattered state. His wife's hand protectively rested on her growing bump, and Johnny softened suddenly.

"It's a long story," Emma said quietly. "We'll tell you if you'd please let us in." Her voice was hoarse from thirst and exhaustion and Johnny made up his mind as he accepted her vague answer. He stepped aside, leading Sarah away from the doorframe and allowing them access to their home.

"Thank you," Frank said gratefully as he stepped inside, Emma timidly following behind. He stood tall, all fear now gone.

"We can lend you some clothes," Sarah said. "You must've been running for awhile for them to get in that state… You poor things." She frowned as she bustled off, leaving the runaways alone with Johnny who stepped closer.

"I know something must've happened to you, and you're going to tell me what, and if it's a valid story, I'll let you stay. But I have my own kid on the way and if you're here to do something to my wife and unborn child…" Johnny let his words hover and fade, glaring threateningly. Surprisingly though, it wasn't Frank who rebutted, but Emma.

"We wouldn't dare hurt a child, much less one yet to be born," she said coldly. Gone was the fearful, humble Emma who'd been broken down by three different Masters, and back was the Emma who defiantly stood up to Ray to save the last vestiges of her dignity. "Especially after living through what we have." Johnny seemed taken aback, but never let down his front. He nodded coolly, lumbering off after his wife. Frank broke into a grin as soon as he did and hugged Emma close, laughing. Emma smiled, feeling so right in his arms, so warm and protected. She snaked her arms around his waist, leaning into him, and basking in the gentle hum of his chest as he laughed.

Sarah waddled out from a separate hallway, smiling at the affection of the two strangers in her home. She quietly cleared her throat and handed a small stack of clothing to each of them, directing them upstairs to change. She was touched by the clear bond of the two; it strongly reminded her of herself and Johnny when they were dating. But she frowned upon the obvious bruising and scratching of the two teenagers; she wondered who or what had done such things to them, to the limit of running away barefoot. But, Sarah comforted herself, they were away from whatever it was, and they would soon explain it all to her and her husband.

*

Half an hour later, the four were huddled around a fire in the cozy sitting room, the runaways now fully clothed. Emma delved into the depths of the flannel shirt and old shorts from before Sarah's impregnation. Frank was at home in jeans and an old T-shirt; grateful for the good state they were in, despite the usage. The only sound in the room was of the crackling fire, the hisses and pops and snaps filling the air, but it wasn't at all unpleasant. Perhaps Johnny noticed this, or maybe he didn't, but he found it to be a good time to speak.

"You ready to explain you being here?" And the question was out and could not be taken back. His words were not harsh, but the hinting demand was not missed, and Frank took it upon his shoulders to answer.

"I can't speak for Emma," he started, staring into the depths of the fire, as though in a trance, "but I suppose it really begins when I was ten. My father had just died, and my mother was falling hard and fast into her wild decisions. She'd come home piss-drunk and high as a kite, slurring incoherently and vomiting on the floors. I didn't understand why she was doing it at the time—I was only ten—but I accepted it anyway and cleaned up, night after night, for two years. I was forced to grow up too soon and to learn to take care of myself. We were almost evicted from our small apartment, and every time my mother wasn't completely wasted, I'd beg her to get a job. I was too young, no one would hire a twelve-year-old, but she had gone to college and had a chance to get one, even a shitty one. In a sense, she listened to me, but not the mature way. She chose the wrong path, but there was nothing I could do about it.

"One day, I was now thirteen, she came home with a man. I remember him, for he came over often. He was scruffy with a beer-belly and yellow teeth. His name was Stanley Johnston, and he was a class-A sleazebag. And my mother's first client in her new job. Prostitution." Frank paused, lost in the memories, and remembering the sleepless nights. "I can't say it didn't work; we were able to pay off our debts and keep the apartment, but it was at a heavy price. I spent so many nights listening to it; I became accustomed to the sound of squeaking mattresses and my mother's screams at the height of orgasm. That's how it went for a year—she'd bring home a client and earn her money, and I'd endure it. But she fell back into the habit of drinking too much and pushing her limits on drugs. She soon couldn't take care of her clients, so the task fell on me. I had to satisfy her customers. I refused, many times, but soon my mother brought her pimp home with her, and he'd force me to do it. And I did it, and hated her for it. When it was over, I'd yell at her, but she ignored me, relying on her drugs to tune me out.

"This lasted until my sixteenth birthday. I slept late; I'd spent the last night servicing Stanley, and screamed at my mother for a final time. I went into my mother's bedroom, to see if she'd passed out in a puddle of her own sick like she had so many other nights, but found something so much worse. I found her hanging from the ceiling fan." Frank swallowed, urging back the tears. "Her face was mottled and I puked until there was nothing left. Her pimp, who had a key, came in only an hour later, with another man. I was in too much shock to comprehend what was happening until he'd literally carried me to his car and dropped me in the backseat, child-locking the doors and speeding off. I remember screaming and clawing at the windows, before the other man knocked me out with a single punch. I woke up in only jeans, arms strung up, and being watched hungrily by a man in his forties.

"His name was Kurt Smith and he was my first owner. He was big, bigger than Bob, and meaner. Within minutes of being purchased, I already had a black eye. He was abusive and a sex addict. I was raped constantly and beaten afterwards. He nearly starved me, and whenever he wasn't using me, he was in some way abusing me. I finally couldn't take it anymore and contacted a man who'd stopped by before, a man who was only known as Carter. He told me how to get out, but warned me it'd mean I'd go somewhere else. I agreed, and he told me to smash a beer bottle over his head, and that he—Carter—would be over in a few hours. I did what he told me, and waited anxiously. He picked me up, bringing me briefly to the warehouse to recover, and telling me my new Masters would pick me up in a week." Frank briefly paused, gaze still fixed on the crackling fire. Emma closed her eyes, exhaling slowly, before reopening them and covering his warm hand in hers. To their left, Sarah was silently crying, the tears cascading down her cheeks like a waterfall, pity tugging harshly at her heartstrings. Johnny looked troubled by the boy's story; sorry he'd ever doubted the boy, mortified by his own gall to accuse him of having intentions to harm a child when his own had been tainted horribly. And Frank was nearly done now, and everyone could tell.

"Carter's word was true. My new Masters arrived within the twelve hours of my seventh day. I was at their house by the thirteenth. By the seventeenth, both had marked me. And from then on, it was never straight out. There was always pain drawn out from me… Even the times it hurt to begin with, there was another. Whips, pinches, slap, scrapes, slams… you name it, and they did it. Once, Mikey choked me. I don't know when he let go, but when I woke up, I was tied to the bed, and Gerard was on the phone. With Bob. And that's when I met Emma. My Masters broke her in a little, but it wasn't enough for Bob. He called them back today, while they had fun with their favorite whip. Once I'd stopped bleeding, we trooped in the car and went to Bob's. We were told of a 'game' to enforce our place. We were given seven minutes to run as far as we could. When those seven minutes were up, they'd come looking for us. We were sent off with the promise of when and if we were found, we'd regret it. So we ran… And when we estimated seven minutes had passed, we climbed a tree. And hid until they went back to the house." Frank needn't continue; everyone could guess or knew what had then happened.

"Is that what happened?" Johnny's voice was pitched a little higher than previously, and Emma nodded silently, brushing her bangs from her eyes. She was tired and wanted nothing more but to forget and sleep.

"The guest room's upstairs," Sarah spoke up quietly. "You'll have to share a bed." She stood, Johnny helping her up, and was halfway to the stairs before speaking again. "So long as you two help around here, you can stay as long as you need." The married couple left them alone, heading to their own room, where they could share loving words and be eternally grateful their child will not grow up as Frank had.

"Frank…" Emma's soft voice reached his ears and Frank smiled. He'd let go of his past on the tracks, marched right by it, and was not going to hang onto it any longer. That was the last time he'd speak of it, and he was ready to create a new future… Starting here, with Emma and Johnny and Sarah, and ending wherever he ended up. But he was here now, and he wasn't going to dwell on what he couldn't change, but rather on what he could. He took her hand, and Emma felt the warmth spread from her fingers up her arm, the pleasant tingle she always felt when he touched her starting up. She wasn't quite so tired now, nor was Frank, and they seemed to both know what to do as they climbed the rickety old staircase to their room.

They closed the door behind them, and once it as, Frank kissed her. It was slow, gentle, and unlike any other kiss Emma had experienced. It was different from the harsh, lusty kisses from the Masters and the drunken, sloppy ones from her father from those nights so long ago. She returned it tentatively, unsure how to respond, and following his lead, knowing he was not being dominating, but rather showing her the way. He smiled against her lips, carefully back-walking to the bed. And once the clothes shed and both were ready, Frank pushed inside Emma lovingly, gently and wonderfully. It was sex, but as they had never experienced before: not a mindless fuck, but sweet lovemaking. It was enthralling and slow and they came together, eyes locked in affectionate passion.

And afterward, they let the last kiss linger until they ran out of breath. Emma settled in Frank's arms, feeling more powerful and loved than she ever had in her life. She traced a few of the tattoos on his arms, taking in his scent and keeping the memory stored in her mind for eternity. Frank buried his face in her hair, holding her against his chest and feeling the warmth radiating off her skin. He, too, would never forget this night, for it was a triumphant ray of light in the darkness of reality. They had erased the past and built a new first, one of love and devotion and not of power and role.

The two were linked now, by their own choices, and felt content with this world in which they lived. Light was overpowering darkness and, as they fell asleep together, they did not wonder or think of how long it would last. For now, it was all they needed.






Aww... Wasn't that sweet? Haha. Don't worry; but the men are busy and ready to remove them from their new happy place. (Okay, have some anxious thoughts...) But how will they? And will they succeed? And how does Carter, who had allied with Frank during the days of Kurt, fit into it? Hmm... Well. You'll have to wait and see, loves. But I hope you enjoyed the darkness and light of this chapter--from Frank's awful past to his golden present. Things are looking up for them, but will it stay that way? They aren't far from Gerard, Mikey, and Bob... but is it enough? Oh! The suspense despite the lovely ending. I must say, I was hesitant about this chapter. It's very different from how I planned it before. But, this is what ya get and I'd love to hear what you think. Rate it, review it! Because next we dive back into the lives of the three criminals... Dun dun dun! Haha. xoxo Violet.