The gay four-way continues; a lesson learned.
"Let me guess, you just fucked some guy, didn't you? How could you lie straight to my face? You ungrateful piece of shit!"
His running footsteps seemed to echo throughout the house. Emma sobbed, gasping for breath. She could've gone out the backdoor, but the backyard was closed off. Besides, she'd already missed the turn. It was too late.
She bolted up the stairs, slipping at some point and landing hard on her knees.
He grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her back. Emma cried out, kicking out blindly behind her. She must have hit something, because his grip slackened. "Fucking whore!" he screamed after her as she started running again, his voice shaking with rage.
A phone. She needed a phone.
Hers was downstairs, and so was the landline.
Shit, shit, shit. She was so, totally, utterly screwed.
Emma flew down the hall, feet sliding as she careened into the wall. Jeremy was right behind her. Without thinking, she sprinted into Daddy's bedroom, moving to slam the door.
His fingers nearly caught in her haste. He pushed against her, and she knew he'd win. "Please! Please Jeremy!" she begged, shoving with all her strength to get that damned door closed. "I didn't cheat on you! I - I'm sorry! Please st-stop!"
To her surprise, he did. Emma didn't hesitate. She slammed the door and locked it. Her whole body was shaking as she warily backed away.
He was still standing there, she could see his shadow under the door. "Emma? Emma, come on. Let me in. I'm sorry. I won't hurt you. You know I'd never hurt you." Emma sank to her knees, covering her mouth with her hands. She squeezed her eyes shut when he pounded on the door. "Emma! Open the fucking door!" It sounded like he was trying to kick it in. "I'm not leaving until you come out here and talk to me! How many guys did you fuck? How many? Emma!"
"Get out! Leave me alone! I'll - I'll call the police!"
"I didn't fucking do anything! What the hell do you think they're going to charge me for?"
Minutes passed so slowly they felt like hours. He didn't leave. He was still right there, waiting. "I want you back, Em," he said finally, his voice whisper-quiet. "I'm sorry. How many times do I have to tell you I'm sorry? Please, please just talk to me. I want to be with you."
"No," she choked out. "Jeremy, we're over. I just want you to leave."
"What do you mean we're over? How can we just be over? I love you. I love you, okay? Emma, come on. You're being ridiculous. We can fix this."
"I don't want to! Don't you get it? I don't want to be with you. There's..." she swallowed past the lump in her throat, "There's someone else." She sat up straighter, before gradually pushing to her feet. "I'm with someone else now, did you hear me? Jeremy? He loves me, he really loves me." Tears pooled in her eyes. "He loves me like you never did. I don't want anything to do with you anymore. I never want to see your face again! So get the fuck out of my house!"
Her throat was raw from all the shouting, all the sobbing. Anger pulsed through her. She glared at the door, as if it was translucent and she was glaring right at him. She wasn't so scared anymore; she was just pissed off.
He muttered something she didn't hear, but she didn't care. She stiffened as she heard him walk away. She held her breath until she heard the front door slam shut. Shakily, she walked to one of the windows, peering out from behind the curtain and watching Jeremy's car drive off.
Emma stood in the shower for nearly half an hour. The water washed away her tears and, after a time, she merely stood still and let the water run over her. Mechanically, Emma washed her hair, even though she'd already showered earlier that day. She took her time lathering her body with soap. She shaved her legs, cutting herself because her hands were too shaky.
Emma stared at the thin line of blood on her shin. It wasn't deep, but it stung all the same.
She rinsed off and grabbed a towel.
Naked and with her hair dripping, she walked into Daddy's bedroom.