Part 13 (1/2)
one as she heard voices. Emma scooted back against the wall and sat
frozen, staring at the shards of china from the vase she'd broken.
They would beat her. Send her away. Shut her up in a dark room to be
eaten.
”Emma?” Still dazed with sleep, floating a bit on the joint he'd smoked
before he and Bev had made love, Brian walked toward her.
She curled into herself, bracing for the blow. ”Are you all right?”
”They broke it,” she told him, hoping to save herself.
”They?”
”The dark things. Mam sent them to get me.”
”Oh, Emma.” He dropped his cheek to the top of her head.
”Brian, what--” Still belting her robe, Bev rushed out. She saw
what was left of her Dresden vase, gave a little sigh, then crossed to
them, avoiding the shards. ”Is she hurt?”
”I don't think so. She's terrified.”
”Let's have a look.” She took Emma's hand. It was fisted, her arm taut
as a wire. ”Emma.” Her voice had firmed, but there was no meanness in
it. Cautious, Emma lifted her head. ”Did you hurt yourself ?”
Still wary, Emma pointed to her knee. There were a few drops of blood
on the white T-s.h.i.+rt. Bev lifted the hem. It was a long scratch, but
shallow. Still, she imagined most children would have wailed over it.
Perhaps Emma didn't because it was nothing compared to the bruises Brian
had found on the girl when he'd bathed her. In a gesture more automatic
than maternal, Bev lowered her head to kiss the hurt. When she saw
Emma's mouth drop open in shock, her heart was lost.
”All right, sweetie, we'll take care of it.” She picked Emma up and