Prologue
She wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but a flash of metal caught the reflection of the outdoor porch light. Then her mother fell to the ground. Her fall was insidiously slow. She could see it happening, inch by inch closer to the cold foyer floor. Real-time evaded Emma and prevented her from stopping her mother’s descent. She screamed, or at least she thought she did, but that happened just as fast. Emma crouched down crying, over her mother. Her hand was shaking as she touched her mother’s lifeless face. The words that followed sounded as though they existed in another world, “Cry Baby.”
Emma felt like she said something in response and immediately feared his retaliation to her disrespect, if indeed she had spoken.
But her father walked off the front porch, tossing the wrench aside, much like he did with the two wounded females, now in a pile by the doorway. It fell onto the grass with the softest thud as he slowly walked to his car.
He never looked around to see if anyone was looking and he never looked back. He didn’t care to see the severity of his destruction. He didn’t care whether his daughter was witnessing the death of her mother. No remorse. Just cold. Like the floor that met her mother’s fall.
And Emma…was no longer afraid. Not in the way that she had once been. She didn’t fear for her safety anymore. Only her mom’s. She would now protect HER. He didn’t make her prove what her resolve could be that day, he just drove away.
She looked down at her mom. Lying there, not moving. Her breath held. She was too scared that her breathing would prevent her from hearing her mother’s breathing. She didn’t hear it.
Her heartbeat grew louder. It was all she could hear now. It was deafening. Intrusive.
She hesitated for a second before she cried. Tears are curious in nature. Their origin is the same, but their cause and intensity are altogether unique. She heard her mom start to cry and then the flood gate of her own tears was released. It was tears of absolute joy.
Joy is a funny thing. What right does it have to show up when someone is in the middle of their worst nightmare? But there it was, filling her heart. That was the very moment that she was certain something in her changed. It was so powerful. It was complete. It was unselfishness. It was hers! Emma just didn’t fully understand it yet!
She was so low to the ground. Trying to get as close to her mom as possible. She wanted her to feel that she wasn’t alone. She kept telling her she was ok without knowing at all if that were true. She was telling her, simultaneously, as she prayed for the same outcome. Over and over. Louder then softer.
She wasn’t sure exactly how long they both laid there on the floor. But if tears had healing powers, they healed her mom that night. Because she was covered in them.
She began to come to, and as Emma asked if she should call 911, her mom vehemently repeated “No!” So, she didn’t. She did call her Grandpa though.
The months that passed, after that night, weren’t a blur like so many would say when time flew by. She remembered every horrid detail so precisely that it seemed videoed. Like she had full access to auto replay at will. But the end result was that her mom had secured full custody of her.
She knew that she couldn’t stop the assault that night, but she knew somehow that she would never let that happen again. Her heart found a strength that a young girl shouldn’t have to yield yet. It originated somewhere deep. Wherever it started, it began its fated and slow progression on that night. Something had changed in her. She just had no idea what it all meant.
