Dream Makers: Dream Of Me Part 12

Raphael and Dair had stepped closer to Emma forming a protective barrier around her. She knew that they wanted to protect her from her aunt, but there wasn't anything they could do. Mildred was her legal guardian and had never really done her any harm. She didn't see any way for them to help her, at least not right then.

"I ain't staying. I come to pick up my ward. I didn't give her no permission to leave the house, and yet I sees her walking down the street, with two men no less." Her gaze s.h.i.+fted to Emma and her glazed-over eyes narrowed. "How you think it looks, girl, for you to be walking around with men old enough to be your father? I ain't raisin no wh.o.r.e."

Emma was surprised that Mildred remembered seeing them considering Raphael's ability to sway minds, and she wondered if it had anything to do with all the drug use and alcohol. Maybe her mind was just too gone to be able to be influenced like others.

"ENOUGH," Dair's voice rumbled over Mildred's. And pulling Emma from her thoughts about her aunt. "You will not call the child such vulgar names or you will face my wrath.

"And who's you be for me to care? That brat is mine. She livin' in my home, eatin' my food, sleepin' in the bed I be providing, and she's goin to start earning her keep. Now, come on, girl, ya hear? I have people coming for dinner and I won't be letting them go hungry."

Emma stepped forward to follow her aunt but Darla gently took her arm. "You don't need to go with her, Emma. She's been drinking and is probably high as a kite as well."

Emma looked up into the worried eyes of the woman who she'd come to think of as her real aunt and smiled gently. "I'll be okay, Darla. I'm not a victim and I'm tough. If I don't go with her now, I have a feeling it will be worse for me later on." Emma could tell that it took everything in Darla for her to release her and let her walk out of the library. She didn't want to disappoint her, but she knew that her aunt would take her anger out on Emma if she didn't just do what she wanted. Cooking dinner for her aunt and her low life friends wouldn't be that bad as long as Emma could lock herself in her room before they all arrived.

Even though she heard Darla tell Raphael to make sure she made it home in one piece, Emma didn't look back as she climbed into the back seat of her aunt's car. She didn't want to see the worry in their faces. Instead, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes and thought of happier times. Emma drew on her memories of past Christmases with her parents. If her mama and daddy were still alive they would be in the kitchen with the Christmas music turned up loud while they cooked Christmas dinner. Her mama would let her help make the dressing and baste the turkey, and she would even let her eat some of the cookie dough from the sugar cookies they made every year. The whole house would smell of good food and be full of laughter and music. They weren't the perfect family, but her parents worked hard to make the holidays special. He mama always used to tell her, Emma, memories are important and making good ones can sometimes be the difference between simply surviving through difficult situations or thriving. As she sat in the back of that car, with stale cigarette smoke swirling around her, Emma realized exactly what her mama had been talking about.

Two hours later, Emma stood in the kitchen in Mildred's house admiring the 'feast' she'd prepared. The preparation had consisted mostly of simply heating things up because her aunt had only bought stuff that needed to be tossed in a pan and warmed or thrown into the microwave. Green beans, mashed potatoes, as well as macaroni and cheese were all microwavable. The turkey she bought was already cooked and simply had to be heated up in the stove. The dressing was Stove Top from a box. None of it was difficult for the girl to manage. She simply followed the directions on the backs of the containers. Her aunt had left her alone for the most part, only coming in a few times to gripe and complain about Emma thinking she could come and go as she pleased. Emma simply ignored her and listened to the Christmas music she had playing in her head.

Once the table was set and all the food was laid out, Emma started to slip off to her room. But her aunt grabbed her arm and turned Emma to face her.

"Where do you think yer going?"

"I figured you would want me out of the way so that you and your guests could have a nice time," Emma told her. She fought the urge to pull her arm out of the tight grasp. Her parents had never handled her so roughly. Oh, she had been spanked on occasion but never had her mama smacked her or hit her out of anger.

"I wants you out here where I can be keeping an eye on you. You can serve us and make yourself useful."

Emma didn't like the sound of that. "Are you sure? I'm terribly clumsy at times." She was fibbing but she figured it was allowed if she was attempting to protect herself. Emma had a feeling being around the type of men her aunt entertained would not be in her best interest.

"Well, you better not spill anything on my guests or you'll be punished. Didn't my dear sister teach you bout sparing the rod n spoilin the child?"

Emma nearly snorted out a laugh. The idea of that woman spouting out Bible verses was about as ridiculous as a politician swearing on the Bible that he would be honest and put the people's best interest first. Truly it was laughable. But Emma swallowed it down and simply nodded at her aunt.

One by one, Mildred's friends began to arrive and with each new person the leering looks and snide comments increased. Emma couldn't bring herself to appear meek or afraid. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of thinking they were getting to her. Instead, she met their gazes head on with a challenging one of her own. Her mama and daddy hadn't raised a coward, and she would not lower herself in front of the likes of those people.

"She's a pretty little thing, Milly," one particularly s.h.i.+fty man said as he licked his fingers after having ripped his piece of turkey apart. Emma stood in the kitchen waiting for her aunt's orders. Every so often her aunt would yell, 'fill that gla.s.s, girl' or 'get us more food, you ingrate'. Emma bit her tongue over and over to keep from saying things that would only cause a flare in her aunt's temper. She endured the looks from the men and the snide comments from the women. The final straw was when a man her aunt called Rat reached out and ran a finger down her cheek as she refilled his gla.s.s. n.o.body would touch Emma without her permission. Her mama had always told her that her body belonged to herself, and no one had the right to touch it in any way.

Emma couldn't stop her hand from flying up and slapping the disgusting appendage away from her face. Her eyes narrowed on the man called Rat, and she gritted her teeth as she spoke. "Didn't your mama teach you any manners? I do not want you to touch me; please don't." Only her mama's insistent reminders to be respectful had Emma saying please, though she knew this man did not deserve her respect.

"She's a feisty one, Mildred," Rat laughed as he continued to watch her. "You should sell her; she'd bring a pretty penny."

"Sell her," Mildred snapped. "She ain't but. . ." She paused and looked over at Emma. "How old are you, girl?"

Emma straightened her shoulders as she stepped back away from the table. "I'm eight years old."

"See, she's only eight. What would I be selling her for?"

Rat's eyes lingered much too long on Emma, causing her stomach to roll. "She's only a few years away from breeding age; until then she could be put to work in a man's house cooking and cleaning."

"Why can't she just be kept in my house to cook and clean? She's my kin," Mildred said as she smacked her food.

"She needs to be trained by a man if she's to be a proper slave."

Emma was pretty sure she was going to vomit all over the floor if she had to listen to any more of Rat's disgusting talk of selling her and making her a slave to a man. Emma wasn't stupid; she knew exactly what kind of slave he was talking about. She would run away before she let that happen. I'm not a victim, she told herself. It was her mantra as she continued to listen to the disgusting, vile people who sat around the table eating food in celebration of a holiday that they didn't even understand. When Mildred raised her gla.s.s and hollered, 'Merry Christmas and all that c.r.a.p', Emma wanted to stomp her foot and tell them all how disgraceful their behavior was at such a time. They were supposed to be celebrating the birth of Jesus, and instead they spoke of disgusting acts and illegal things that no eight-year-old should ever have to hear about.

As the night grew later, the group became increasingly sluggish due to the alcohol they consumed and the drugs they were openly doing in front of her. When they were all finally gathered in the living roomlying around like lazy, fat ratsshe began to walk slowly backwards toward her room, keeping her eyes on them all the while. As she made her way down the hallway, her eyes roaming the group wearily she wondered where Raphael was. She couldn't see him and so she thought maybe he was standing guard using whatever cloaking power it was that angels had. She didn't wonder about it too long because she was simply too tired to give it any more thought.

As she closed the door behind her, she turned the lock and then pressed her back against it and slowly slid to the floor. She wasn't a victim, but that didn't mean she wasn't scared. Emma knew she would be foolish to not be afraid. The people currently on the other side of her wall were shameless, morally bankrupt degenerates with no conscience; at least that's what her mother would say. They had nothing left to lose and her daddy told her those kind of people were the most dangerous sort. She was only eight years old. She had ten years left until she would be considered an adult. How was she going to survive ten years with a woman who cared nothing for her and would do nothing to protect her from the likes of people like Rat?

Emma didn't realize she had fallen asleep sitting there on the floor until she was startled awake by the sound of the doork.n.o.b to her room turning. She reached up to make sure the lock was turned and let out the breath she hadn't even realized she was holding. The k.n.o.b continued to jiggle and Emma heard a string of curses from a deep yet very slurred voice. She stood up but her stomach seemed to remain on the floor as she backed away slowly from the door toward the window. Her eyes darted to the bed where her coat lay and in the process noted that Raphael still wasn't there. When the jiggling turned into the sound of a shoulder against the door, she knew she needed to get out of there.

Emma grabbed her coat and quickly shoved her arms into the sleeves. As quietly as possible she pushed the window open, though she was sure whoever was on the other side of that door could hear her panicked breathing. Thankfully, Raphael had thought ahead and already greased the old, rusted window so that it wouldn't make any noise should she ever need to use it to make a hasty exit. Emma could feel the cold air on her face as she began to climb through the window. She didn't flinch when she heard the door give way to another hard shove but she tried to move more quickly. She thought she was going to make, but her movement was impeded by the p.r.i.c.kly leaves on the bushes planted right in front of her window. Her first leg was touching the ground and she had begun to lift the other when he grabbed her.

"Gotcha," the deep voice growled. She recognized the voice-Rat.

Emma attempted to pull her leg out of his grasp but he was much too strong for her. His other hand took hold of the braid in her hair and yanked her head back. She let out an involuntary cry as a sharp pain radiated through her scalp. He jerked her through the window and back into the dark room. Emma's arms flailed out in front of her, desperate to grab anything that she could use to pull herself away from her attacker. It was useless. Her arms were just too short. When he tossed her onto the bed, she looked around frantically for anything that she could use as a weapon. A hand connected with her face before she could get her arms up to block the blow. She screamed inside her mind for Raphael. He was her guardian, her self-appointed protector, and though she didn't know why he hadn't been there that night, she knew he would come. He had to, because if he didn't, things much worse than being slapped across the face were going to happen.

Raphael took in a sharp breath as the desperation of Emma's cry filled his mind. He knelt, head bowed in reverence, before the Creator which was the only reason he had not been with Emma that night. He had done as Darla asked and made sure the child arrived to her aunt's safely, but then his Maker had called and he had to answer. Raphael had known it would be about Brudair but he had been surprised by the Creator's questions.

"The child is in need," the deep voice said as it radiated into his soul and covered Raphael in peace that only the Creator could give. "You have been guarding her?"

"Yes," he answered honestly.

"Continue to do so. The purpose I have for her is great, and she will bear many burdens before she fulfills it. Go now, keep her safe, but do not interfere with her free will. Understand this Raphael, what happens tonight must happen. She will become the woman I have destined her to be partly because of her experiences."

"As you will it," Raphael responded. He did not stand until he had traveled from the Creator's presence. When he arrived outside of Mildred's home, he immediately felt the darkness and evil that saturated even the air around the shack. Raphael's head snapped around to the window on the side of the house where Emma's room was located and he immediately appeared inside of the room.

"STOP." The power given to him from the Creator had the man, whose hand had been reared back to hit Emma once more, frozen. "Emma come here." She climbed quickly from the bed but before she moved to Raphael's side she pulled her leg back and kicked the man in the s.h.i.+n.

"That's for being such a nasty person," she snapped and then hurried to stand behind Raphael.

Raphael's lips twitched at the young girl's spirit. She was a fighter and based on what the Creator had said about the burdens she would face, she was going to need to be a fighter.

Using his will alone, Raphael turned the unmovable man to face him. The fear in his eyes was unmistakable, as was the utter hatred. This was a man that did not like to be humiliated and would retaliate for such a thing. The man's eyes widened further when Raphael took a step toward him.

"This child is under my protection as ordered by the Creator. To stand against the Creator is to face your own destruction. You will not touch her again. If you attempt to, you will face my wrath. Now, leave." Raphael gave the man a small push with his power, forcing the man toward the door. He could tell that Rat was trying to turn around and face him, but he was powerless to do so under Raphael's command. Once the door was closed, Raphael turned to look down at Emma. Though her face was bruised from a blow that he had not been there to stop, she held her chin up high and her shoulders were pulled back. She was beaten but not defeated.

"I am sorry that I was not here," he told her as he knelt down before her. He attempted to make his tone sound gentler for her sake.

"The point is that you got here in time," she told him. "It could have been much worse than a smack across the face."

"Are you alright?" He was glad to see that she was holding herself together, but it also worried him that she wasn't shaken by the incident. "Would you like to go to Darla's?"

Both of their heads turned toward the living room as they heard a crash followed by an unintelligible shout. She looked back at him and nodded. "I think that's a great idea."

When they instantly appeared in front of Darla and Wayne's front door, Emma frowned at him. "How come we walk everywhere in town if you can just do that?"

"Because it would probably alert the other humans that I am not normal if we suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Although if it only happened once they wouldn't remember but repeatedly and it gets harder to influence them to forget the shock."

"Oh, right, that makes sense."

Raphael knocked on the door, even though the house was dark and it was obvious that everyone inside was asleep. It was late, but he knew that Darla would not care. After several minutes, the locks on the door began to turn. When the door was finally pulled open, it was a drowsy Serenity that stood before them. She took one look at Emma and her eyes narrowed in on the puffy, swollen cheek. "Who did this?" she asked him at the same time motioning for them to enter. Her voice was tight with emotion and Raphael could tell she was attempting to keep her cool for the sake of the child.

"One of Mildred's acquaintances," he told her.

"Where were you?" Serenity snapped. "You said you would protect her. How did this happen?"

Raphael's face didn't change as he answered. "I had been called by the Creator and was in his presence at the time of Emma's attack. As soon as I was aware of the trouble, the Creator sent me to intervene."

"It was one strike too late, don't you think?" Her voice was growing louder with every question. She had a right to be angry; he would not deny her that. But his response would probably only anger her further, so he simply said nothing. The only thing that consoled Raphael's shame at not having been there was that he knew he would be with her from now on with the blessing of the Creator behind him. She would still face adversity, but he would be able to protect her from most of the evil that came her way.

The room was suddenly illuminated in bright light as Darla and Wayne came rus.h.i.+ng into the living area, flipping the switch as they did so. Darla's eyes took in the room quickly and then found Emma.

"Did she do this to you?" Darla hurried to her and knelt in front of the child. "Did your aunt hurt you?"

Emma shook her head. "It was a friend of hers they called Rat. I had locked my door but apparently that particular lock had not been tested against nasty, drunk men. I tried to get out the window but he caught me."

Darla wrapped her arms around Emma and pulled her tightly to her chest. The girl suddenly looked like the eight-year-old that she was. She laid her cheek on Darla's shoulder, and when she looked up at Raphael, he saw the sheen of tears in her eyes. He was thankful for those tears because it was not healthy for her to keep those emotions bottled up inside. Tears were healthy; they were like a cleansing waterfall to the soul and, once released, would wash away the pain.

"I don't like to cry," she sniffled as she closed her eyes causing the tears to fall. "It makes me feel like a victim and I am not a victim."

Darla shook her head. "Crying doesn't make you a victim, Emma," she told her as she rubbed her back to sooth her. "You become a victim when you let the trauma overtake your life instead of dealing with it and letting it go."

"Tears are good for you," Raphael said. When she opened her eyes back up, he knelt down. His large frame seemed to make the room shrink. His face was almost level with hers as his eyes met Emma's. "They are a gift from the Creator to his creation. Tears release endorphins in the mind that help soothe and comfort. They cleanse the eyes and relieve stress, thereby lowering blood pressure and taking strain off of the heart. He created you with tears and nothing he created is bad. Those tears you are holding in are necessary, Emma. Let them fall, let them heal, and let them remind you with each one that you are not alone."

Chapter 9.

"To dream of Christmas while it is Spring or Summer means that you are subconsciously remembering some long-forgotten pleasant experience of your childhood. To dream of the Grinch means that you are subconsciously burying an unpleasant memory."

Serenity motioned for Raphael to follow her into the kitchen once Darla had gotten Emma tucked away in the spare bedroom for the night. She knew by the worried look on the angel's face that he thought she was about to go off on him again for not being there when Emma needed him. And though she was still angry over it, she knew yelling at Raphael wouldn't change the events of the evening. But she had something more important to talk about.

"Tomorrow morning is Christmas." Serenity rolled her eyes when he stood there and simply blinked at her. "As in there are usually presents under the tree from Santa for little girls and little boys."

"Emma will not have presents at her aunt's house, I'm sure," Raphael said dully.

"Yes, I know. We've gotten her a few things ourselves, but we don't want her to think that Santa has forgotten her, now do we?

"You desire for me to go and get her presents?"

"Ding, ding, ding, give the angel his prize," Serenity said dryly. "Yes, we want you to get her presents." She held out a list and some money to him but he only took the list.

"I do not need your money."

Serenity's brow scrunched up. "Are you sure? You do realize that stuff isn't free. You can't just say, hey, I'm an angel so give me what I want."

This time Raphael rolled his eyes at her. It was such a human gesture that Serenity couldn't help the huff of laughter.

"I have been on this earth much, much longer than you. I learned the concept of commerce and goods without any trouble, believe it or not."

Serenity's eyes widened. "Did you just use sarcasm? Wow, I'm impressed. It was a little stiff, but you're making progress."

"I didn't realize I was trying to make progress."

"Raphael, we all have stuff that we need to make some progress on. Now, as much as I know you like small talk, off with you. You've got shopping to do."

"I do not like small talk," Raphael told her with a slight crease in his forehead.

"And we digress." She blew out breath. "I was being sarcastic, Raph; just go with it."

He simply looked at her for a moment longer before disappearing.

"Where did he disappear to?" Darla asked as she walked into the kitchen looking more worried than Serenity had seen her in a long time.

"Okay first doesn't it freak you out that a man who claims to be an angel just up and disappears from your kitchen? And second I sent him on a mission. He's going to be Santa."

Darla smiled. "That was good thinking. And you need to remember Serenity that some of us experience things in our life time that make us very aware of the unseen world around us. I think the Good Book puts it as entertaining angels unaware. Some of us are simply aware."

Serenity was tired to delve into that rabbit hole with her aunt. She'd just accept it for what it was. Darla wasn't crazy and therefore obviously had simply accepted the supernatural world as being real. Serenity's mind drifted back to Raphael and the gifts and she hoped that something as small as making Emma's Christmas a little brighter would be enough to help heal the ordeal the young girl had been through that night. But she knew she could hope until the world crumbled and that wouldn't change the fact that pieces of Emma's innocence had been taken from her. Because of that she would never be the same.

"You go on to bed, Darla," she told her aunt. "I'll wait up for Raphael and make him help wrap the presents. It's the least he can do."

"Don't be too hard on him, Sarah Serenity. We can't begin to understand what kind of obligations he is under."

Once again the way Darla referred to Raphael with such casualness baffled her. "I forget sometimes that you are way too chill for any normal adult."

"Back in my day it was cool, not chill," Darla smiled at her as she headed towards her room.

"Back in your day you all also thought pants that looked like they had bells at their bottoms were cool," she said and drew out the word. "So I don't know if I'd be too proud of what happened back in your day."

Darla simply laughed at her and hollered goodnight leaving Serenity standing in the empty kitchen wis.h.i.+ng Dair was with her and Raphael would hurry.

"What a Christmas," she muttered under her breath.

"What a Christmas indeed," a small voice said from behind her.

Serenity's head whipped around to find Emma standing in the doorway where her aunt had stood only moments ago. "What are you doing up, chickadee?"

Emma shrugged. "Couldn't sleep."

Serenity sighed. "I can understand that. But you do know Santa can't come if you're awake, right?"

Emma's lips quirked up in a small smile as she shook her head at her. "You can't honestly believe someone with my IQ could possibly still believe in Santa Clause, could you?"