#self-para

Every shift came with risks and dangers, but that was something that came with the job. One where Zoe upheld the oath she took to protect Kismet Harbor and its citizens. Relying upon her training in both college and the academy, she had been able to de-escalate situations and save others. For the most part she had a good track record, earning a few commendations over the years.

On a ride with a new recruit and Wyatt, Zoe drove to the location they heard over their radios, some jewelry store whose alarm was activated. A simple breaking and entering came over the airwaves to which Zoe responded. They weren't far off the scene anyway so she told dispatch she could handle it. As they arrived at the scene it looked quiet enough, a door fully open and the front window smashed in, the alarm blaring. Drawing her weapon, along with Wyatt and the recruit, they announced their presence and stepped inside. It was eerily quiet despite the blaring of the alarm, no customers or workers screaming or readily apparent. But as she locked eyes with Wyatt and the recruit, they heard footsteps and she motioned she'd take the lead. Calling out, “police hands up,” the burglar turned around and shot at them, everyone ducking out of the way. After the exchanging of gunfire, he was apprehended but not before she felt a searing pain in her side. “I've been hit,” was the last thing she remembered before everything went dark.

By the time she woke up, she was in the ER, doctors and nurses ready at work, a sonogram being done on her to see inside her. She was barely coherent and faintly heard their words, “no free fluid, but wait… Is that a baby?” She heard the doctor say, though she couldn't pipe up to say it wasn't possible, due to hatever pain meds she was on, which had a stronghold against her. She slipped out of consciousness once again. An alarm blaring, a strobe light flashing, a loud bang, and then nothingness.

Emma couldn’t believe she was back here, that her step-father, Scott, had found her. She kicked herself, internally. Maybe it was because she went back to being called Emma? She chose her mother’s maiden last name, but maybe that was foolish, too. She should’ve made up a name, any last name. A new first name. A whole new identity. It was too late for those regrets.

The very first thing Scott did was beat her for running away, for wasting his time, for making his lose money. She spaced out after awhile, especially when he stopped bothering to sign the things he was yelling at her. Once he was satisfied, he forced himself on her. She was bound completely, helpless to him, and it was all too familiar. Emma did what she used to do back then, go into that place in her mind – away from all of it. She forgot, though, if she numbed out too much, that made him angry, too, and she did. She shut down fully, and he couldn’t have that. He would torment her until her mind came back around, then punish her for it.

It didn’t take long to remember how her step-father… Master as he forced her to call him, liked things. The first couple weeks, he kept her downstairs where he had his playroom, as he liked to call it and to the side of that was another small room, her bedroom – it had two cages. A large one, for when she was ‘good’. She could stand in that cage (not that he gave her permission to stand often). He permitted her a couple books and a small stash of art supplies. She also had a large plush dog bed along with a small toilet and sink. The small cage, she could only lay down or be on all fours, and there was a small mat that was barely a cushion from the hard ground. If she needed the bathroom, she had to press a button, and hope he’d come take her to the bathroom.

Time began to blur, Emma not being completely certain how long she’d been there when he finally allowed her upstairs. He refused to permit her clothing, being naked from the moment she arrived. A collar was wrapped around her neck, and she hand shackles on her ankles that  had enough slack to only let her go as far as he wanted – initially, the living room and kitchen – being that he wanted her to start cooking again. That’s when he began to invite his friends over once more. She’d prepare the meal and desserts, then be bound in some form or fashion in the playroom, waiting for them to finish, for him to let his friends do whatever they wanted. Sometimes it was one person, sometimes more than one. Emma did what she knew to do – compartmentalize it all.

Honey what have you done? It's the sound of my gun Honey what have you done? It's the sound, it's the sound....

It was several months of this – day after day of torture, abuse, rape slowly picking her apart. She was already forgetting all she learned from her therapist about the fact she was a person, not a pet. She wanted to get away – no, she needed to get away from the monster. That’s what he was, not her Master, but a monster. She had to try to remember that, to pull herself out of this conditioned mindset. It took months of being there before he gave her a little more leeway. There was still a collar around her neck, and there were security cameras all over the home. He gave her strict orders to always crawl unless she had to clean something out of her reach on all fours. Working on his checklist – involving cleaning and, eventually, cooking dinner, Emma’s eyes kept slightly drifting to his office. She wasn’t allowed in there unless he specifically called her in – and she dreaded those times. It was never good. But there was a phone. If she could figure out some way to ask for help. She wouldn’t be able to hear the other end of the line, but if she could manage to somehow form the word help with her voice… just maybe.

Janie's got a gun Janie's got a gun Her whole world's come undone From looking straight at the sun What did her daddy do? What did he put you through?

Watching the cameras, Emma waited until she was sure they were turned away, scrambling to her feet and slipping into the office. No cameras that she could see, at least. At this point, she knew she had to find a way to get free or die trying. Moving to the desk, she pulled open drawers on the off chance of finding a cell phone. Maybe she could Facetime someone to call 9-1-1 for her… if the cops would even help. She had her doubts, knowing her step-father had very powerful friends. One drawer was locked, and Emma, being good at picking locks, managed to get it open. A gun. Fingers tentatively, shakily touched it, her breath hitching as she slowly picked it up. Could she even do this?

They say when Janie was arrested They found him underneath a train But man, he had it comin' Now that Janie's got a gun She ain't never gonna be the same

Janie's got a gun Janie's got a gun Her dog day's just begun Now everybody is on the run Tell her now it's untrue What did her daddy do?

For the first time in so long… perhaps in her life, she felt tears begin to form in her eyes. It was almost confusing, the sorrow and pain she felt for her younger self. That little girl never got the normal childhood, never rode her bike down the street, never did whatever it was little girls did. Maybe… maybe Scott had destroyed her. Maybe there was nothing left. Emma didn’t know, truly. With the gun in hand, she had no idea how long she stood there, holding it down low, barely lifted from the drawer.

He jacked the little bitty baby The man has got to be insane They say the spell that he was under The lightnin' and the thunder Knew that someone had to stop the rain

She saw the movement of the door pushing open. Wide eyes landed on Scott as he signed, “Pet, what are you doing in here? You know you’re not permitted in my office unless I call you. And you’re on your feet. Good pets are on all fours, waiting for Master eagerly. Get over here, now!”She knew that look. She knew how much trouble she was in with him right now. If she didn’t do something, she might never taste freedom again. There may not be another chance. It would take a long time to earn his trust all over, and she didn’t know or want to know how broken she’d be by then. The gun lifted, aimed at him, and she saw him laugh. “You don’t have it in you to shoot me, pet. You’re nothing – just a worthless whore, a toy. Without me, you’ll be on the streets taking $20 for men to use all your little holes. Put it down and crawl over here, I’m done….” That was the end of the signing as the gun went off. Did she pull the trigger? And then it went off again because he was standing and she swore he walked towards her.

Run away, run away from the pain Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.....

Janie's got a gun Janie's got a gun Her dog day's just begun Now everybody is on the run What did her daddy do It's Janie's last I.O.U

Emma was terrified. Startled, terrified, naked, she ran from the room past him as his security team (which was outside patrolling the grounds) came running in there. Normally, someone would have grabbed Emma, secured her, but they didn’t. Emma couldn’t hear, but they were shouting about shots being fired, Scott being down, calling the private ambulance. She simply shot out the front door, thinking nothing of being naked. There were no clothes to grab or take. The problem now was she had to get past the gate. Shaking, scared, eyes scanning for danger, she carefully touched the gate to make sure it wasn’t a trap in some way. It wasn’t, but she saw no good way to climb it. There was no place to put her feet and pull up as the bars were vertical. But then the ambulance pulled up and they opened it. There were only a few moments to slip out, and she did, running directly down the road.

She had to take him down easy And put a bullet in his brain She said 'cause nobody believes me The man was such a sleeze He ain't never gonna be the same …….

Janie's got a gun Janie's got a gun Janie's got a gun Everybody is on the run

Tears she’d held back for longer than she could even fathom began to spill. It was a strange sight and feeling. Emma couldn’t recall the last time she cried aside from the times Scott purposefully didn’t relent until he pulled tears from her. But that was different. This was different. Her lungs burned as she ran, legs aching, but she didn’t dare stop. If she stopped, someone might get her, hurt her. Even when she saw cars, she hid off to the side of the road, afraid it was someone associated to her step-father. The small brunette didn’t stop until she spotted a home. The nearest neighbor was a little over three miles. She didn’t know for certain if she could trust them, but it was her best chance.

An older woman was out front with the chickens, glancing up as she heard a noise, spotting a naked young lady running towards her. “Kai,” she hollered to her husband, “Call 9-1-1, there’s a naked young girl here, she looks hurt, and bring a shirt or something out here for her.” The woman, Hazel, started talking, but Emma waved her hands, pointed to her ears, shaking her head. “Oh my… Kai, tell the cops she’s Deaf. I think she’s Deaf,” she yelled. Emma could read her lips this time, nodding. “You read lips, dear?” Emma nodded. “Are you ok?” Emma glanced down, giving a small shrug. The couple got her an oversized shirt to wear along with a pen and paper. Emma wrote, “I was kidnapped by my step-father. I shot him. My name is Emma Faulkner. Please don’t send me back. He'll kill me.”

On her way to her seat at the Weiss family table, she stopped by the bar and got a glass of champagne. She didn't usually drink but then again, she didn't usually do a lot of the shit she was getting herself into these days. In fact, she was starting to believe that it didn't actually make one damn difference either way. Who cared if she was partaking in her old habits again? Not many people seemed to notice, anyways, especially not her father. Did she want him to notice? Maybe a part of her did. She wasn't sure.

In celebration of his newly wedded bliss, her father had asked her to make a speech in his honor. Obviously, she'd agreed to it almost immediately--after all, it's not like there was really any other answer than 'yes' when the Don of the Weiss family asked you for a favor. Last week, she'd sat down to write it. She was hungover, sure, but she'd been sober and she'd spent a good three hours writing something down, erasing it, starting over, and struggling to find anything positive to say about this new blended family situation they all found themselves in. But she could not for the life of her find something nice to say. What could she say? Their mother was gone and regardless of what might've happened over the past year, the initial reason for her absence had been at the hands of their father. Or at least, that's what she suspected. Did she have any actual proof? Well, no, not really. But she had her suspicions. Then there was Petra, whose demise most definitely did lay in Romi's hands. Perhaps father and daughter were more alike than she cared to admit.

Regarding her new immediate family, she wasn't a huge fan. To her, it was clear that Cherry had no intention of being Romi's new mommy, not like the blonde wanted that anyways. Still, she hadn't even really seemed interested in getting to know Romi or Cassandra. And Elias? He was so clearly out for himself. Was she being paranoid? Maybe. But she didn't think so, not really. She could feel the position of underboss slipping through her fingers all over again and here Elias was, probably willing and ready to take it away from her. No way Elias was going to weasel his way into that position. He couldn't. It wouldn't be fucking fair. But were things ever fair in this family?

Suddenly, the day-of coordinator came running up to Romi, stressing about how she needed to go line up for the presentation of the family. Jesus. This dog-and-pony-show never fucking ended, did it? Lining up in the procession, her sister by her side, she gave Cass a look that could only be translated as 'This is bullshit.' Did Cass know she was high? She hoped not. Pull yourself together, she told herself. She plastered on a smile as the DJ announced the Weiss daughters. Soon after, Romi sat back and sipped on her champagne as she watched the newlyweds dance and smile at each other. "They barely fucking know each other," she said to Cass under her breath. At the very least, it was good to know that, for all intents and purposes, it seemed that the sisters' feud was behind them.

Then came the toasts. Romi's stomach churned as she got up and walked over to the DJ booth. She'd been nervous about this all day and now, with all of these people looking at her, she could tell that she was starting to sweat. Maybe it was too hot in here--maybe it was the coke. Or maybe it was all of these eyes staring at her, waiting for the darling baby daughter of the Weiss clan to dote on her father once again, as she always had. Even though she feared him, and even hated him at times, she wanted his approval so fucking badly. But as she stood up here, she couldn't help but think about how this was all one big fucking joke.

"Hi everyone. For those of you who don't know me, I'm Romi--I'm the groom's daughter. I know we're all so happy to be here tonight to celebrate the union of these two incredible people," she said, her perfectly white smile painted onto her face, as if it had always been there. She'd just started and already, this was a fucking load of horse shit. "When I first met Cherry, I could tell that my dad was smitten--call it love at first sight, I guess." Bullshit. "You know, it's quite amazing, actually. They say when you know, you know--and my dad must've known right away because these two only got engaged less than two months ago. Isn't that wild?" She was still smiling but in the back of her throat, she could taste the bitterness creeping up, getting closer and closer to spilling out. The coke was wearing off by now and she needed another bump--but she was stuck here at least until this speech was over.

"Of course, no one could ever forget our mother. She was my father's first love and she'll always be here with us," she said, putting her hand up to her heart. "But Cherry, I already know that you're such an incredible mother and we're so happy to welcome you and Elias to our family. I think you two fit in quite well already." After all, they seemed power-hungry and greedy and out for themselves. They'd fit right in! Was she projecting? Totally. But she couldn't fucking help herself. "The Weisses can be a bit prickly at times, of course, so just be careful," she laughed, as if it were actually a joke. "We can be a bit vengeful, us Weisses. Like, uh... When I was little, my sisters and I were gifted the Barbie dreamhouse." Even now, with just those few words, she could see her father's expression turn from irritated to dark--a look that on its own said 'Don't you fucking go there.'

"I mean, this Barbie dreamhouse had everything, even a little elevator to put your dolls in! Our mother said she'd picked it out for us--it was our one big gift at Hanukkah that year. We were told we'd have to share it--a hard feat for little girls." She didn't want to look at Cassandra--if she could step to the side and apologize for what she was about to do, she would, but that wasn't possible. Perhaps she should've remembered to say goodbye before she'd opened her big mouth but she couldn't stop now. "Anyways, one day, we were bickering about who got to play with what dolls--you know sisters, they only want what the others have. And we must've been so annoying to our dad because he comes out and he screams at us to stop fighting over these damn dolls. And of course, I start weeping as soon as he raises his voice." As she told the story, she was chuckling, as if it wasn't a core memory for her, something that that would be lodged in her brain forever.

“I’m pregnant,” she blurted, the words strange and heavy as she heard them aloud for the first time, letting the truth settle.

“You’re what?”

It took her a few seconds to place the voice before dread set in. Emine lifted her gaze to find Ayda lowering herself to sit beside her.

It wasn’t like Emine to hesitate, she’d always said exactly what was on her mind, but this was different. She thought of her family, of expectations and customs she’d never quite fit into. “I’m pregnant,” she repeated, her voice steadier this time.

Ayda had never imagined Emine as a mother, not like this, not in the chaos of the borough, not while she still lived on the edge of danger. She had always assumed marriage to Kerem was the path Emine would take, but a child? That had seemed impossible. And yet, here they were, and there was no sense in clinging to what might have been. She reached out, taking Emine’s hand the way she always had, like a sister. “Who’s the father?”

It had been nearly a year since Emine and Kerem had split, though there were too many nights in between where they’d fallen back into each other’s arms. He was everything to her. He always would be. Emine glanced down at their joined hands, letting the contact ground her. “It’s Kerem’s.”

Ayda nodded, relief softening her features, even as concern lingered. It was still dangerous, given where Kerem’s loyalties lay now. “Does he know?” she asked gently. He was her best friend, she trusted he’d do right by Emine.

“No, I haven’t told him yet,” Emine admitted quietly. She’d only found out a few days ago herself, still trying to wrap her head around the idea that this was even possible. Children had never fit into the future she imagined, especially not now. Everything felt out of place. “I know I have to tell him.”

And yet, it wasn’t that simple. She knew it better than anyone. Kerem’s alliances had turned everything into a mess of risks and impossible choices, leaving no clear path that didn’t cost them something.

“You should,” Ayda said at last, giving her a moment before continuing. “And you know I’m here for you.” She squeezed Emine’s hand. “You’re not doing this by yourself.”

Emine let out a slow breath, eyes drifting back to her brother’s headstone. She wondered what he would’ve said, whether he would’ve scolded her or pulled her into a hug and told her they’d figure it out. Maybe both.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

Ayda glanced at her, then toward the path leading away from the graves. “Come on,” she said gently. “Let’s get out of the cold. We’ll go back to the bakery, get you something warm to eat.”