Wrapped in armor, p.8
Wrapped In Armor, page 8
“Two against one? Sure, much better odds than earlier.”
“You accused your sister of trying to seduce Troy?” Dad asks.
“He told me she did. I believe him.”
I notice Brody’s jaw tighten and force myself to ignore it.
I lean back in my seat. “Why was she over there? Why didn’t you know she was there? After last week’s nonsense, I thought I made myself clear that she’s not to be around them without at least two other adults. And if you don’t believe me, ask Rupert—he was there.” I look at Brody. “And after today’s enlightening bit of information”—I look back at Dad—“which you also knew that my husband was a boy when my sister fucked him, and you knowingly sent him back in the bowels of hell to drag her out? That’s unbelievable to me.”
“You don’t know what you would do to save your child, Emma, especially one who you failed,” is all he offers. “And I’m sorry about what happened—I truly am—but I couldn’t let her rot.”
“That’s fine. Whatever you need to tell yourself. But my husband fucked her again, this time drugged. She’s known for months he was there—”
Dad shakes his head, disbelieving. “You don’t know that, Emma. She would have told us—”
“Of course she would.” I can’t believe this, I think. “Here’s the deal: I’ve been through the worst hell in my life, more devastating than fertility issues or miscarriages, more devastating than my divorce, through both of those, I’ve had you both, and I’m truly appreciative for that. But you have lied to me and put her needs before the safety of my family, and you continue doing so. I have two children, and their needs are equally important to me.”
“Emma,” Dad sighs.
“I am not finished!” I say, hands beginning to shake. I take a deep breath before continuing. “How is it that my nine-year-old daughter knew about the connection between the two of them”—I wave my hand toward Brody, unable to look at him for fear of his reaction to my anger—“before I did? The term sex ring is not something I want to explain to my daughter … but that … bitch used those words when she decided to tell my daughter that the man who has been more of a father to her than Troy ever was, who she cried over, grieved, and also had to act as though it was wonderful that Brody had saved her when, down deep, I know damn well she was burying the reality that she’d rather have him than her—”
“Emma!” Dad gasps.
“She told my daughter”—I hit myself in the chest then point at Brody—“that he was alive to piss me off, and didn’t care if it hurt her to not hear it from me.” I huff. “As a matter of fact, none of you thought of my children.”
Dad looks at me, anger etched in his features. “In Elizabeth’s defense—”
“No!” I cut him off. “Hell no! I’m trying my hardest to spread myself between two beautiful little girls, a career, and the man I love returning from a hell you should have stopped him from entering. And, Dad, I get it. Yes, I’d do it for them. I’d die for them. But that’s not the point. I don’t have it in me to let that sadistic bitch continue to batter me whenever she sees the opportunity. I’m working from home now. I won’t need any help with my children. I love you, but until you take the blinders off and stop enabling her behavior … I’ll keep my distance. Troy no longer wants to do visitation there, so I’ll be dealing with that worry, as well. So, forgive me if I don’t have it in me to pretend with her and, trust me, I’ve tried. I will set boundaries, and if I feel like I can be part of her life again, it will be when she’s not deceiving a therapist and on my terms. I’m pissed and hurt, yet I can empathize with your situation. This doesn’t mean I’ll put my children at risk.” I grab for my bottle of water and sit back down.
After a long minute, Dad looks up at me. He then clears his throat and says, “Elizabeth would like permission to talk with Brody. She feels it would help both of them. I don’t disagree.”
My jaw drops as I look at Dad then Brody, who sits with his head down and arms crossed over his chest. Then I stand, kicking my chair behind me before I head to the door. “Goodnight.”
“Emma, wait,” Dad calls after me.
“What, Dad? She’s had my husband, gone after my ex, does she want my children, as well?” I seethe.
He shakes his head. “You’re being so unlike yourself.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, but I don’t trust your judgment anymore. I love you, Dad, but I don’t trust you.” Again, I turn back to the door.
“You don’t trust her, or me, but your husband, you trust?” Dad snaps at me, and I have to force myself not to let that slice me open.
“You lied to me, she lied to all of us. Brody lied for me. As wrong as it is, there is a difference. Again, I’m going to bed.”
Upstairs, I head to London’s room and tuck her in before turning on the monitor that she has under the bed. London knows it’s there but prefers it to be hidden. It makes her feel safe, but not feel like a baby. I notice she’s moved it from under to beside her bed, and my heart hurts because I know why. It hurts that I haven’t protected her from the ugliness in the world for at least a few more years.
I then check on Lexi, cover her up, and hold back tears because I know if I ever have to fight for her and Brody wants, he’ll win. I have nothing to offer her that he can’t give her more of.
Sometime later, I hear his voice whisper through the handheld monitor, “Goodnight, London.”
He then walks into Lexi’s room and heads right to her crib, not knowing I’m in the bed across her room.
“Well, princess, things are a bit of a mess right now, but it’ll get better.” He bends down and kisses her head. I immediately hear her giggle. “Oh no, you don’t. Go back to sleep. Your mum is going to skin me alive. Shh … Go to sleep.”
She giggles louder.
“Well, at least you’re happy with me. Come here, crazy baby.” He picks her up and grabs her blanket, wrapping it around her. “So, how does this work?” He chuckles. “You’re getting sleeeeepy.”
As much of a mess as our lives are, I love catching this moment.
“So, what do I do to fix all this, Lexi?” he asks, and she laughs. “Your mum may think I’ve gone mad if I just laugh all the time.”
Lexi stops laughing.
“So, you have a better idea? I knew you’re brilliant.”
She grunts.
“Oh no, you don’t. Please, princess, not now. Wait for your … Oh, love, you did, didn’t you? This isn’t the proper time. Your mum is hiding from me, and you’ve soiled yourself.” He lays her on the changing table. “Okay, there’s a lot of buttons here. Could you please stay still? Oh, Lexi, please stop squirming.” He finally unbuttons her and starts to undo the diaper. He looks around, and I am trying not to laugh. “Oh, wow, um … isn’t there a call button or monitor? Hello, Emma.” He chuckles then pulls open the diaper and gags. “How the hell—oh, I mean, how on earth did all that come out of that tiny little belly? What did she feed you? Please don’t move … Oh, this isn’t good … We need a change of clothes.” He pulls his shirt over his nose, and Lexi laughs. “How does this not bother you? It’s quite disgusting and all over you. Shit!”
Unable to hold it back any longer, I slide off the full-sized bed and ask, “Would you like some help?”
“Oh God, Em, look at what she’s done. I mean, I’m sure I didn’t help matters, but this … is appalling.”
I grab a new sleeper, a diaper, and a clean pair of socks before I begin to change her. “All better.” I kiss her nose.
“Thank you. I’m sorry I woke her. Where were you?”
“I fell asleep in here.” I take her to the bed.
“And Lexington … I’m sorry,” Brody says uncomfortably.
“She would have woke on her own if she had to poop.”
“All right, I can try to get her to sleep.” He holds out his hands, and she lunges.
“I’m going to lie back down over here, just in case you need me.”
“Thank you. Um … Are you planning on sleeping in here?” he asks.
“This is where I’ve slept since she was born.” I yawn. “I guess it’s habit.”
“Well, do you think it’s one you plan to break anytime soon?” he asks, sitting on the edge of the bed.
I don’t know how to answer that other than honestly. “I hope to.”
“All right. How long does it take for her to fall asleep?” he asks as she tries to stick her fingers in his mouth.
“Sometimes minutes, sometimes hours. I can take her if you’re tired.” I reach for her, and she comes to me.
“She’s like a little ping pong ball,” he says, looking at her like she’s precious, like she’s … his.
I lie back against the headboard as she starts teething on my chin.
“Her teeth bothering her?” he asks.
I nod. “Lexi, you’re going to get some medicine. Will you take her for a minute?”
Ten minutes after she’s taken her infant Tylenol, Lexi is sound asleep. I lay her down and look at Brody, who nods to the door.
I grab the handheld receiver for London’s room and walk out. Brody closes the door as I peek in again on London. When I turn, I bump into him as he looks over me at her.
I step around him and head to the bathroom where I shower, brush my teeth, and floss before grabbing an old tee-shirt folded on the counter and throwing it on.
I walk out of the bathroom and walk past Brody, who is waiting by the door. “All yours.”
He walks in, and I head to the bed, needing sleep.
I am about to fall asleep when I hear, “Hey, Emma.”
I sit up and see him peeking out of the door. “Is everything all right?”
“Having a bit of a time finding a razor.”
I slide out of bed and head to the bathroom, grabbing him one from the medicine cabinet.
“Should have had a look in there, my apologies.”
“It’s not a problem,” I say, avoiding looking at the man I love in fear I’ll show emotions when seeing his scars.
“How about scissors?” he asks, and I open another drawer on the other side of the cabinet and grab them. “Can you help me get the back if I do the front?”
I was beginning to love Brody’s longer hair, the way he pulls it back, or the way it was when he returned—he had a black knit cap on and a wool peacoat. The way it tickled my face, my thighs, the way I was able to hold it in my hands when he was …
“Cut your hair?”
“Yes. I used to do it all the time as a lad. And London was right.” He combs his hair straight up and cuts three inches off.
“Brody,” I gasp.
“You look horrified,” he says, eyes showing concern.
“You have great hair, and you’re just hacking at it.”
“Can’t look any worse than it did when I returned.” He continues snipping away, and I watch as it falls to the ground. He combs it out and shakes his head then hands me the comb and scissors. “Get the back for me, will you?”
“I don’t think I should.”
“Love, you’re not going to let me walk around with a mullet, are you?” he asks.
Love …
“What if I screw it up?”
“Then we’ll fix it. It’s quite easy.”
I listen to his instructions and do as he asks. When I finish, I step back. “It’s short, Brody.”
“Looks good, thanks,” Brody says without looking at it.
I set down the scissors and grab a towel, beginning to dry what’s left of his hair as he brushes his teeth.
When I’m finished, I realize the waves, which I love, are still obvious, and then I grab some cleaning wipes and clean up the hair.
We both walk to our sides of the bed and climb in.
“Would you like to watch television, Em?”
“No, thank you. I’m tired. But you can.” I fluff my pillow and watch as he opens the nightstand and pulls out the remote that hasn’t been touched in months.
A news program shows pictures of us.
“Hey, that’s us … in pajamas.”
I sit up and watch as the pictures flip through.
“They look beautiful.”
“All three of you look amazing.”
“As do you.”
“Thank you, but … Em, do you still want to talk?” he asks hesitantly.
“It’s okay. I kind of want to put this whole day to bed.”
“I’d like to get it out of the way so we can move forward. I hope to do that soon.” His facial expression is pained.
“If you want to now, we can.” I reach out and cup the side of his face, and he presses against my touch.
“I feel sick to my stomach,” he whispers.
I turn to give him my attention.
“Could you turn around?” he asks.
“Why?”
“I don’t want to see disappointment, disgust, or anger. It hurts me to make you feel those things.”
I turn my entire body.
“You have to know I didn’t expect this. I would have never left you, Emma, not ever,” Brody says with self-loathing.
I can’t help myself, I turn around and take his face in both hands. “And you have to know I believe you when you say that. I lost you because you didn’t trust I was strong enough to talk about what was going on, and that crushes me.”
“No, Em.” He sighs as he wraps his arm around me and pulls me against him, his hand on the side of my head, holding it against his shoulder.
“I was fourteen and playing music, you know that. I always looked older because I was tall. The band and I got into bars and quickly became known. People began offering us lines, and we began dabbling. I didn’t love being wired and found my drug of choice to be hash and pot, something to bring me down and not feel.
“I remember going to this one private club. We thought it was a strip club. High, we sat and drank. Wasn’t long into the night when people started to fuck right there. Some wore collars with little locks. We learned a closed lock signified that they were in a relationship and an open one meant they were available. We caught on quickly and bought ourselves collars. We went to the club a lot.
“One day, a girl with blonde hair with green eyes was there. Her lock was open. I knew she was older. She carried herself the way that Doms or a Dominant did—chin up and confident, in control. I was young, without a parent, horny as hell, and I was seeking that. I watched and learned how the subs or submissive acted. They stayed close to their Doms and waited patiently for their attention. When they received it, they were elated and … well, pampered.
“So, I was high, she was there. I must have followed her around like a lost puppy. She took me back to her huge apartment and took control. I noticed a small tattoo of a whip on her lower back.
“The next night, I went back a little more assertive. Not waiting for her attention, I just grabbed her hand, and she slapped me and told me to sit. I did. When she was ready to leave, she told me to follow her. This time, she tied me up and whipped me then pleasured me, whipped then pleasured me again. She bought me clothes and fed me well for two weeks.
“The last night I saw her, I walked into the club, and her lock was closed. I was certain it was because we were in a relationship, but there was a man there. Her head was hung, and she followed him around. When I tried to talk to her, she ignored me. I sat like a fool and stared at her all night. When her man noticed, he took her arm and dragged her out the door. That was the last time I saw her.
“Another lad there told us of another club, and I walked in, head held high, not wanting to be a sub. I fucked a lot of women, all older. All had money and wanted to please me. When I wasn’t on drugs, I had no interest in this.“
“You still awake, Em?”
I want to ask him if he thought I could sleep while hearing of my husband’s past, one in which he was sexually abused, but I didn’t.
“Any questions?”
“Was that woman my sister?”
“Yes. Do you want to stop for a while?”
I shake my head.
“When I went to London, I called my sister, and her and Ariel showed up at the bar in the photo online. The bartender had the same tattoo, but on her neck, and that brought back memories of the woman who whipped me. On Christmas, your dad gave you the album, and I saw a picture of what she would look like, and when you showed me the album, I thought she looked familiar. I began having night terrors. Then, at the cottage, I noticed it after I woke again from a dream and went to get a drink. Your dad noticed my reaction. I blew it off then started having more dreams. I couldn’t ignore it. I had to know, for you, for your parents.
“I eventually talked to your father. He told me they buried a closed casket; they didn’t look inside. He and I made plans and, well, you know what came of that. So, I went into the bar and invited an old friend that I knew was still into the scene. I asked him if he remembered her, and he smiled. He got me in. All of that time, Em … the memories are not my own. That information was from your father, Clive, and James.
“What I do remember is waking up in a dark room. Waking up to being beaten and injected. A woman was there to give me the injection. It was Elizabeth. I remember being held down by three masked men and threatened. I remember waking up to women sucking me off. I remember getting out and another bad crack to the skull. I think Elizabeth was forced and afraid, but also that she was helping me escape. I was tied and starved, and fucked and drugged, and another attempt at escape, I was stabbed. I guess my shirt was found two hours away by the river.
“At one point, another Domme told me if I submitted, I would stop being beaten and could shower. I did drugs, and ate, and worked out, and was a sub for a long time. I remember dreams of you. I remember waking and screaming your name, which always resulted in being beaten. But I had no idea who you were. It was dark, so this ring tattoo wasn’t noticeable at all to me. I knew who I was, I knew what was going on, and I chose drugs and being a sub.
“As I mentioned, I was brainwashed into believing the experience was a gift from my bandmates. With my memory fucked, I didn’t remember you, Emma, only in dreams. I remembered the pending divorce. They even asked if I wanted to leave, but being there, I didn’t have to face the press, my failing, the fans, or anything. I was a mess.
