"Emma," Derrick cleared his throat and looked around the restaurant, "I don't want to tell you this, but I think it will make you understand the situation. My family is involved in things that need a lot of...legal attention." He smiled at her with a look that said, "What are you going do?" Rachel took his hand. "One of the things I do is keep a handle on the majority of private investigators in the metro area."

"Excuse me? What?" Emery had always known that Derrick was shady, but had no idea he was from a family with those sorts of legal needs.

"Doesn't matter..." He waved off her question and then pulled his phone out and looked at something on the calendar. "So, I had all of my people make sure I knew if Phil was looking for you, and when he did, we fed him inaccurate information. That's why I was so confused when someone found you. I had people call around and he didn't use anyone out of Atlanta, so that's how he got to you."

Emery's eyes were wide with disbelief. Rachel was still looking at her hands.

"I have a handle on everything, but we can't risk getting your Toyota. Okay?" His eyes were soft with understanding, but he was adamant.

"I hate this. I hate what he has taken, what he continues to take from me," she said boldly, resigned as she looked down at her waffle, no longer hungry.

Derrick exhaled. "Look, Em, I know this is hard, but the only alternative is to go back to Atlanta. Do you want to do that?"

His question didn't have an edge to it, it was an honest question. Like if that's what she wanted, he'd drive her back to Atlanta. That was one of the things she really liked about Derrick. There wasn't any fluff, he was just blunt. He cared for her, it was clear, but he didn't pull any punches.

"I...I don't know," she answered.

"Oh for fuck's sake, Emma," Rachel made the name "Emma" sound like a diagnosis she didn't like. "You are seriously not going to go back. We've done all this for you, to get you away from that bastard. You will not go back."

"I just don't see how this all ends," she said weakly.

"Em," Derrick's voice was soft and gentle, like he was talking to a child, "if you want to go back, we will get in the car now. What that means is that you will have to tell your mother, the police, and Phil why you left. Do you want to do that? That's the question you need to answer. Are you ready to tell everyone what he did to you?"

A memory of his stubble brushing the back of her neck when he raped her seared through her mind and she tried not to vomit. Emery jumped from the table and ran to the restroom. She was ashamed. Why couldn't she face it now? It'd been almost two and a half years since she'd left. She wasn't a child anymore.

Rachel opened the bathroom door and leaned against it. "I'm sorry," she said.

"I'm a fucking coward, Rachel. I can't face it. I can't even think about it without wanting to die."

"Okay." Rachel nodded and the pulled Emery into a hug. "Let's go get you a car. You want a badass sports car or an antique hoopty?"

Emery felt a laugh bubble to the surface and grabbed Rachel's hand as they walked back to the table.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR.

Unsent Letters

To: Rachel Helms

From: Romona Hicks

I couldn't tell you this face to face, but I think something is extremely wrong with me. I googled it and I think I have anhedonia. I looked it up and it's the inability to feel what I'm supposed to. I know I'm messed up all around, but I think maybe I can't feel the things I need to.

To: Romona Hicks

From: Rachel Helms

The only thing wrong with you is that you were raped. You can feel things-I know this and you know this. What the fuck are you talking about right now?

To: Rachel Helms

From: Romona Hicks

When Noah and I were having sex, I didn't feel what I think I was supposed to. He told me he loved me, Rachel, and I don't think I did, do...whatever. I don't think I can.

I'm broken.

To: Romona Hicks

From: Rachel Helms

This is a better conversation to have face to face, but I've had sex with people that I didn't love. Just because you have sex doesn't mean you end up loving the person. It just doesn't work like that.

To: Rachel Helms

From: Romona Hick

How does it work? Noah meant so much to me. I don't understand. If I don't feel what he felt for me, then I never will.

To: Romona Hicks

From: Rachel Helms

I don't believe this. I believe you will love someone and you will know it. There will be no doubt when it crashes into you and stops all reason. I want this for you. I want you to believe this.

To: Rachel Helms

From: Romona Hicks

I know you do.

Emery sat staring out the bay window at the cold, bleak day. It was Christmas and she was by herself. Two months of living in Savannah by herself had almost driven her insane. She'd spent several Christmases alone, but the fact that Noah wouldn't be coming back to be with her the next day made her almost weepy. She realized how much Noah's presence had helped her. Just being around him was comforting and now she had nothing, no one who could remind her what normal was. Emery guessed that was okay since normal was outside of her reality.

She missed Ashley, especially today, and wondered what she'd asked for as Christmas gifts. Did she still like My Little Ponies and American Girl dolls or was she too old for that now? Taking a sip of her coffee, she sighed, contemplating her life, then went back to writing a letter to Noah.

I.

Noah,

I miss you. Not just your lopsided grin, but your presence. You fill up a room without even knowing it. I wish I was still there with you. You made me a different person. A person I wanted to be. A person that you loved. I cannot even fathom why you would love me, but you did. It rips me apart that I had to leave, that I couldn't be a part of a world with you in it. I did it for you, Noah. I really did.

E.

A fresh round of tears fell from her eyes. She seemed to have an endless supply of tears. She turned on the TV to try to distract herself from her sad, worthless life. Emery didn't think she'd fallen in love with Noah, but now she'd never know. She knew there was something really wrong with her or Phil wouldn't have raped her. It filled up the little spaces in her mind like grout in between tile. Struggling with self-loathing was easier when she was around people. She could distract the unraveling of her mind with other things. Now she just thought. She thought about what she could've done differently. She dreamed about her mother finding out and calling the police. She hoped that there was some way she would gain enough strength to go back and report Phil for what he'd done.

The past two months she'd been simmering over the fact that the opportunity for love was so unceremoniously snatched from her. During this imposed isolation, time seemed to stand still and her thoughts clouded her mind and fucked with her. Although she was comfortable with the idea of being alone, it wore on her.

Emery thought about that last night with Noah every hour-the way he touched her and caressed her, the way he cherished her. She'd never been cherished before. Her body responded to his and it was so different than she'd thought it would be. Her memory of his touch eased some of the torment she felt on a daily basis, but the ever-present ache she woke up with travelled with her wherever she went. It would never go away. She owned it. Misery was the only thing she had now that was really hers. It was the pain of the loss of her father, her sister, her childhood, and her future...just pain.

The Christmas parade was on and it made her remember her last Christmas at home.

Ashley slammed opened her door and started squealing, "Get up, Santa's already been here!"

Emery groaned.

Ashley ran to Emery's bed and tugged on Emery's long-sleeved flannel pajamas. "Come on!"

"Okay, okay." Emery smiled in spite of herself. She wanted to sleep all day. Christmas was full of family and the family included Phil.

They ran down the stairs. The presents that covered the den were ridiculous. The tree was over twelve feet tall and decorated like it was in a magazine.

"Oh my God, look at all the presents!" Ashley squealed.

"I know," Emery agreed.

"Breakfast!" their mother called from the kitchen.

"Can we eat in here? The parade is about to come on," Ashley yelled back, not moving. She was wearing pink pajamas with teddy bears dressed like Santa Claus on them.

Her mother appeared around the corner in gray satin pajamas holding two plates over-filled with pancakes. They always had pancakes on Christmas morning. It's what their dad used to cook them every Saturday. After he died, her mother made them only on Christmas.

Emery took her plate and sat on the couch. Her pancakes had strawberries on them, just how she liked them. "Thanks, Mom." Emery gazed over at her mother and saw she was already drinking a mimosa. She had changed so much since Emery's dad died.