“Since when is it a bad thing to love?!?” Emma asked her uncle desperately, and with every bit of energy she had left.

“I nyever said id waz” he began, eyes already at half mass, “ but jew don't know whad lobe is. spechaly if jew tink it's wit some misdake of a drag chick with a strap-on”
Emma stood very still, both trying to separate the words from the slur and trying not to show any type of facial expression. Partly because she didn't want him to see how deeply that last comment cut her, and partly because she didn't want to give away the fact that she could smell the last four hours of his “business meeting” on his breath. Not to mention his shirt, his pants, and his hands were the rum and coke no doubt spilled for, she'd guess, at least the third time. As she closed her eyes and took a big inhale of stale pretzels, old smoke and new booze, and as her mouth opened, she automatically knew that there was no turning back, and there was no stopping this car wreck. She braced herself for the crash with her jaw clenched, her fist tightened, and her blood boiling.


“Shut up.”
It was so quiet she could hardly hear the words coming from her own mouth. Or was she just shocked they were actually her words?

“What did jew jusay dameh”

“I said...shut up. Daymian may have a vagina for the time being, but HE is more of a man than you will ever be because he doesn't need to crawl into a bottle if a little dink is put in his life.” The louder her voice got the more she knew she needed to stop. The more she needed to stop the more she couldn't, and so she continued. “When he was there when I was missing my mom, you were in Jack Daniels, When I was in the hospital because I was dying you were in Budweiser. While one of his hands held mine, and the other whips the tears off my face, one of your hands there was a shot, and the other very un-gently made my tears.” She looked on his face and felt invigorated by the dumb founded, dumb whited, and just plain dumb look on her moron uncle's face.


THWAP!
The first one.

He raised his arm again and as she went to duck her head he smacked it on the side of the bar.

SLAM!
The second one.

He then pushed her on the ground, and threw the glass bottle at her which hit her face.

DINK!
The third one.
The last one.


As she got up and tried to straighten her self up, she heard the door slam behind her and all she could think of was “3”. And so, with out shoes, a coat, and no idea in h*** what just happened, she felt the slam of the door behind her and the slam of the winter air in front of her. She walked down the steep driveway and took a right. The plunged her hand into her back pocket and got out her phone and hit the number. “3”.
RING
Pick up.
RING
God please
RING
Come on Daymian pick---
“Emma? What are you doing? How do you have your phone it's 9 O’clock!”


Just hearing his voice made Emma struggle to hold back the tears she had been enslaving for far too long.

“I'm coming over. Something happened. I did something really stupid. Is it okay if I come over?”

“Of course it is. But its way too cold for you to walk. Were are you. I'll come and get you.”

“I'm on my road. Headed towards the intersection.”

“Go to the end and duck down below the bush underneath the stop sign. I'll be there in just a few minutes. Stay hidden OK? I can hear your uncle in the background.”
Emma turned her head and saw her uncle stumbling under a headlight as he screamed her name, no doubt waking all the neighbors, who were either too nice to say anything, or too nosy wanting the juicy drama to continue.

“Thank you Daymian. I don't know what to say.” Emma struggled to not allow her teeth the chatter”

“Don't mention it. That's what I'm her for. Stay safe and stay hidden. Ill be there in just a sec hun.”


She got to the end of the road and froze. In nothing but a thin B-52's T-Shirt and her light blue polka-dot pajama pants. She wasn't even wearing slippers and there she was, crouching next to an old thorny bush of some kind, and a stop sign that served more of a purpose for the landing point of eggs, spry paint and band stickers no one's ever heard of. She noticed the chilling howl of the freezing wind biting at her face and feet at the same time she noticed her uncle's voice getting closer and closer. She clung to the pole and brought her knees to her chest, with the terrifying thought of what her uncle would do if he found her ripping through her head.


Suddenly she was in a pair of head lights. They were turned off. Daymian got out of the car and crouched down behind her and asked if he saw her. The feeling of his big hand on her back and the all too familiar sound of his voice made her begin to cry. Daymian tried to calm her down and get her in the car without making any noise. And with that, they went down back roads and listened to nothing but the static on the radio and had no contact except for the feeling of each others hand. Daymian looked out of the corner of his eye and saw that she was biting her thumb nail. He knew this was bad. She needed to cry. But she wasn't letting her self. That's hat that meant. And it was inn that state they stayed until they got to his house.


They went right upstairs and into his room. The second the door clicked shut behind them they were in each others arms. Emma was sobbing in fear and Daymian was just holding her and reassuring her that she was safe and he loved her.


They went to sit on the bed as she began to sob even deeper into her palms as she tried to explain in detail the harsh words and the violent blows, while he just listened to her and comforted her and heard her apologize for her mistake.


“Oh hush. Now you listen to me Emma Medici, the ONLY mistake you made was not getting a coat on your way out. It's bitter cold outside and you're already sick. Come here your arms are freezing.”


She leaned back into his arms and laid her head on his chest. He wasn't binding so it was a little more weird, but a little more comfortable too. As Emma's eyes grew heavy, and she let to problems of her life drip away while she was in this alternate universe, she heard the faint and familiar whisper of a three word sentence.

“I love you”

And with that, the smell of his natural self not covered up like most, and the touch of his hand getting hair off of her face, she fell asleep with one thought circling around I her head.


'This is the best mistake I've ever made'