Page 33 of Fixing Emilee

“Is there anything legally that can be done against this… creep?” I ask the question that has been bouncing around my head since I heard that recording in the gym. Emilee’s head shoots up, turning to stare at me as if I have offended her somehow. “Do not look at me like that, Butterfly. That motherfucker deserves to pay for what he did to you. He will be better off if we go through the police than if I give into the scenes playing in my mind. He put his hands on you, and no matter how badly you want to forget, that doesn’t make it disappear. You were sexually assaulted, and he deserves death, but I can’t be in jail because then I can’t touch you.”

“Why can’t we just forget it and let it go? It happened six years ago. Hell, I don’t even know where he is or if he is even alive…”

“If I could find him, he wouldn’t be fucking alive,” Adam says.

“Then you would be the one in jail, Adam,” Emilee says sternly. “Plus, I’m sure it’s been too long since the accident happened, and I have no evidence of anything happening,” she says, turning her attention to me.

“Actually, according to the internet, there is no statute of limitations in Missouri when it comes to the sexual assault of a minor, which you were at the time,” Levi says, holding up his phone. We can see the Google results on the screen.

“That’s great, Levi, but you’re forgetting one thing. I. Don’t. Have. Any. Evidence.” Emilee pushes back away from the table. Her frustration at us pushing is clear, but I’m not letting this go. I can’t let this go, and neither will her family. He will pay one way or another. But what did she seriously expect? That we would hear the horror she went through and just let it be? Fuck that. I push my chair back from the table, creating just enough space that when Emilee paces back by me, I grab her around the waist, pulling her into my lap.

“Let me go, Parker West, now.” Her voice leaves no room for discussion. She is pissed off, but I don’t care about that.

“Fuck that, Butterfly. I won’t let you go now or ever. I thought I made that clear to you tonight.” She struggles, trying to pull herself free of my grip. Leaning in close to her ear, I say, “Emilee Kay. Stop now.” She wraps her hands around my lower arm, digging her nails in.

“Parker. I’m not kidding. Let me go.”

“Dig them in, sweetie. Mark me. Take that anger and frustration out on me. I can handle it, but I will not sit here and let you start this all over again. You think I can’t read you like an open book, but you are wrong. You don’t think you deserve justice, that you did something to deserve the attention that sick, twisted bastard gave you. I can hear that voice in your head screaming at you that it’s all your fault, that everything is going to change, and that you are worthless. I promised you I wouldn’t let you fight that voice alone.” I tighten my hold on her until I’m sure it’s painful for her, but she doesn’t complain. Instead, she stops trying to get loose, retracts her nails from my skin, and drops her head, giving up the fight.

“I just want to move on from all of this. I don’t want to have to tell this whole story all over again to multiple people. I don’t want to worry about the police tracking him down, pissing him off, and constantly worrying if he is coming after me again.” She leans back into my chest, her whole body going slack to the point where I’m afraid she may have fainted, but she speaks again. “I just want to be fixed. I want to be whole again. Is that so hard to fucking understand? Being constantly reminded of how fucked up my life has been kept me broken, and I’m so sick of it, Parker.”

Emilee’s eyes are closed, so she doesn’t see her dad stand up, rounding the table toward us, but I can. I can’t decipher the look on his face, but I see that he is in the middle of a mental battle over something. When he stands beside me, I turn both Emilee and me, so he is now standing in front of us. Emilee lifts her head from my shoulders, looking at her dad. He squats in front of her, putting his hands on her shoulders.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Do I like the fact that you do not want to press charges against that asshole? Fuck no. Do I want to get my gun and track him down? Fuck yes. Will I? No. I feel like the biggest failure as a dad. I failed with your mother. To hear how she raised you, the things she said to you, and the fact that her first instinct wasn’t to protect you means, I went wrong somewhere. I failed with you, not protecting you from Christian or this Kevin monster, but I won’t fail you again by going against your wishes. It might not be what we want, but it’s what you want, and you will always get what you want. And, Emilee, you aren’t broken, sweetie. You might have cracks, but who doesn’t?”

Emilee launches herself into his arms with so much force that I’m sure she will knock him over, but he catches her, holding onto her for dear life.

“What’s the asshole’s last name?” Levi asks. He has been suspiciously quiet the whole time, typing away on his phone.

“Why?” I ask.

“Come look at this,” Tiffani says as she grabs her laptop from her bag and places it in the middle of the table. We all move at once, standing behind them, watching Levi type in their mother’s name, Jenna Hill. Emilee’s hand shoots out straight away, pointing at an article link.

“Winters. Kevin Winters. That’s him.” Her voice is shaky, quiet, and full of emotions. Levi clicks on the article that is halfway down the page. He starts to read it out loud.

A local prosecutor shot and killed outside a local’s home.

On Wednesday afternoon, the local police department was dispatched to 720 Hollow Street with reports of shots fired and an unresponsive male in front of the residence. When the police arrived on the scene, they found 47-year-old Kevin Winters bleeding from a gunshot wound to the abdomen. Medic’s arrived shortly after trying to stabilize Mr. Winters before attempting to transport him to the nearest hospital. Unfortunately, Mr. Winter’s injuries were too severe, and nothing could be done. He was pronounced DOA by hospital staff.

Mr. Winters was a beloved prosecutor for the last five years. He leaves behind his wife of over fifteen years and two beautiful daughters. Ms. Jenna Hill was questioned but released when cleared of any involvement. The police are currently investigating this horrendous act of violence on a beloved community member and ask that if anyone has any information, please call the number below.

As Levi reads the article, I notice the slight change in Emilee’s breathing. However, I’m still unprepared when her body slams into mine as she passes out before he’s finished reading. “Baby, baby,” I repeatedly say while slowly lowering her to the ground keeping her head in my lap.

“Emilee,” everyone else says, gathering around, trying to do something.

Slowly my beautiful girl blinks her eyes and focuses on my face. “What the hell happened?” she asks, trying to sit up.

“Nope, stay exactly where you are. You passed out, sweetie. Thankfully, Parker was behind you and caught you,” her mom says to her. “Everyone, back up and give her some space. Carly, can you please go get me a wet rag?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Carly answers, taking off down the hallway to our left.

Emilee takes her hand off the floor, wrapping her fingers with mine. “He’s dead?” I assume she is asking me because she stares into my soul with eyes filled with hope.

“Yes, my butterfly. He’s dead and has been for a year, according to the date in the article. You are finally free,” I say. Looking at everyone surrounding us, I don’t see a dry eye. We all feel it as we watch Emilee take a deep breath. We hear the click of the final piece of her broken soul sliding back into place. Our broken girl is now finally fixed. Leaning down, I capture her lips and kiss her like I plan to do for the rest of my life.

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