Chapter 8

• Emerson spent the early hours on Sunday laying in bed feeling pathetic for himself. The event that took place the day prior repeating like a broken record.
• He was perplexed on how sour his relationship with his father had gotten, just where had he gone wrong? Why did his father still treat him like filth?
• His mother was another story, Emerson hated the fact she would just stand and watch whatever it was her husband wanted to do to him, all the while calling him sweet names as if she cared.
• He knew she didn’t. So why pretend.
• Although she has never outright spoken about the event that led to all this, he also got the feeling she didn’t approve of his behavior back then. It showed when she does nothing to stop her husband's abuse. Emerson learned the hard way that no matter how he begged with his eyes she would always pick her husband's side, maybe she was scared that he would turn on her or maybe she also thought he was bringing shame to the family. Whatever it was Emerson hated how she would always come back to tend to his needs after the damage was done.
• He got in the shower, washed his body and got, all while avoiding looking at his reflection in the mirror. Although he knew the bruises would be fading, he didn’t want to see the cruel reminder of what he was to his father.
• Emerson wrapped a towel round his waist and walked into his room, he stopped in his tracks when he noticed his door opened, and his older brother Elvis stood by his desk going through his things.
• Elvis was of average height with a slightly stocky build, his curly brown hair fell messily over his forehead hiding eyes more brown than green that reflected mischief in them. He attended a local college and was gone most of the time but when he was at home Emerson made sure to avoid him.
• “Emerson stormed to him and snatched the book off Elvis' hands.
• Elvis glanced up at him, an obvious counterfeit smile plastered on his lips. “Emerson, how lo–“
• “Get out.”
• Hurt passed across Elvis' face, but he quickly masked it, a sinister smile taking its place. “Why?... Don’t tell me you’re still on the wild side.”
• Emerson got in Elvis personal space, “I’m not going to ask again.” Emerson muttered, jaw locked tight, “Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. My. Room.”
• If Elvis was dismayed by Emerson’s remark, he hid it exceptionally well. “Oh calm your titties.” He smiled, ranking his brother's naked form. “I’m out of your hair.”
• He moved to the door but before he slipped out he paused with his hand on the door nob. “Oh, and I invited Olivia for dinner.”
• At his brother's last words, Emerson’s heart dropped to his stomach, his anger evaporated and dread taking its place.
• Olivia was beautiful, someone anyone would want to have as a friend or girlfriend. She was respectful and kind and just perfect…and Emerson hated her, hated the fact that she liked him, hated that ever since she knew his brother Elvis, she would always find a way to be alone with him just to get a feel of his body.
• Emerson had an early growth sprout. At fifteen his body was already built, muscles flexing whenever he moved, it attracted a lot of girls and most of all Olivia, and Emerson hated that she took a liking to him.
• It was an unusual relationship, one Elvis knew about but kept to himself, and that most of all was why Emerson hated his older brother.
• A knock on his door jolted Emerson from his thoughts.
• “Hey! Emerson, open up.”
• Mason voiced out. Emerson blinked, shaking off the uneasy feeling and slowly walked over to open his door.
• Mason's eyes scanned the room before they landed on Emerson.
• “What the hell have you been doing here men, I’ve been knocking for a while there. You're jerking off or something?” Mason asked, brushing past him to sit on the bed.
• Emerson blinked a few more times at his friend, before he slowly made his way to his closet. It was not unusual for Mason to show up unannounced.
• “I wasn’t jerking off.” Emerson replied, dropping his towel to put on a basketball short.
• Mason’s eyes followed his Emerson movement as he proceeded to put on a tank top.
• “I saw Olivia in th–”
• “She is not interested, Mason dropped it.” Emerson fired. He was already dreading this evening, he did not need Mason to add to it.
• “Jesus, what’s your deal? Do you like her or something?” Emerson shivered at the question, he felt bile rise up his throat at the thought.
• “No Mason, I don’t and I’m sure you wouldn’t want her attracted to you.”
• “How would you know, huh?” the question unraveled Emerson, maybe Mason wouldn’t be so repulsed by her touch, maybe he only hated it because of the way he was. Maybe Elvis was right, maybe, just maybe it was all for his own good.
• Emerson ignored Mason's question, opting to change the topic. “Come on, dinner should be ready.”
• The dining room was warmly lit, with a long wooden table placed at the center. The air carried the tantalizing aroma of roasted-herb-crusted chicken with garlic mashed potatoes.
• Every one was engaged in light conversation save for Emersonm. Benjamin being the ever cheerful one, recounted a story that kept everyone entertained.
• Emerson was certainly glad for that, so far the conversation stayed clear of him and he would very much love it if the rest of the evening continued that way. The questions and most conversation topics were mostly thrown at Elvis, due to his papers and exam coming up, he had been piled up with work and study that they didn’t see very much of him around the house.
• Amidst the continuous laughter, clicking of glasses and silverware, Emerson felt at ease, that was until he felt pressure on his knee. Like lightening his eyes shot up to his side locking with that of Olivia’s. She smiled up at him, shoulder-length wavy brown hair hid most of the freckles that littered her face.
• Emerson struggled to swallow the food in his mouth. It was only then he took in their seating arrangement. How could he not notice this earlier.
• At the head of the table sat his father and to his left sat Elvis then Olivia and Emerson, opposite Emerson was Mason and to his friend’s side sat Benjamin and then his mother.
• Olivia's hand slowly crept up Emerson’s thigh and he froze, spoon slipping off his hand, the clicking of it, was what brought Emerson back to the present.
• “–Feeling overwhelmed lately, college has been a real challenge and I thought it would get easier by now, but it hasn’t.”
• Emerson couldn’t phantom how she could hold a conversation with his father while doing the things she did.
• “Sorry to hear that dear, college can be tough, especially when you're juggling schoolwork and other responsibilities, look at Elvis we barely see him at home anymore.”
• Emerson zoned out of the conversation, All the time that this could possibly happen why now? In the presence of his parents no less. Emerson felt worried the more her hand slowly crept up, his stomach turned, threatening to give up its contents.
• He sat upright and used the motion to swiftly brush-off Olivia’s hand from his thigh. From his peripheral he saw Elvis frown at him. Emerson was lost to the question his father asked but Elvis replied nonetheless.
• “Yes, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”
• “Just remember to take care of your health also… you too Olivia.”
• Brenda soon noticed Emerson staring at his food absentmindedly, body stiff as a board.
• “Emerson, honey what’s wrong?” Emerson's eyes found his mother's but it took him a few more seconds for his brain to register the question.
• “N-nothing.” He stuttered at the feel of Olivia's hand back on his lap, much closer to his junk. He cleared his throat, and glanced around the table. The sensation of Olivia’s hand burns at his skin. “Could I go up to my room early? I'm not feeling very well.”
• “No,” his father snapped. “It’s been a while since we had dinner like this, I am sure you can wait a while.”
• “But, if he isn’t feeling okay-” Brenda tried to intervene, but was swiftly shut down by her husband.
• “The boy will manage.” He turned to Emerson with a hard gaze, “Won’t you?” Emerson could only manage a short nod, eyes glued to his plate.
• He played with his food while the conversation picked up again and Emerson blurred all of it out.
• The burning sensation on his thigh drew the longer her hand remained on him. He could practically feel the fire spread throughout his body along with a sense of disgust.
• He clawed on his other thigh, trying and failing to keep the apprehension at bail.
• “You're both in your last year of high school right? Any luck with the ladies yet?” Olivia joked unaware of the stiffness that came over the table.
• “You know me, smooth as I can be.” Mason answered.
• “And you Emerson?” Olivia teased. Giving him a tight smile.
• “No.” Emerson's voice was hard, he subconsciously looked at his father and found his already hard gaze piercing into him, he looked away uneasy.
• Mason shook his head, talking over a mouth filled with food. “He’s always like that, I keep telling him to find himself someone but he keeps shrugging it off…” Mason sipped on some water, then continued. “He can be so frustrating, girls keep coming to him but he won’t budge...I don’t know what’s up with that?”
• Emerson had never hoped for Mason to shut up so badly in his entire life. His nails dug deeper into his thigh, grounding him.
• “Have you got nothing to say for yourself?” John fired. The sudden outburst forced the room into silence, tension so thick it suffocated Emerson. When it was clear Emerson wasn’t going to respond, Mason answered tentatively.
• “I…sure he’s just taking his time…a…lot of people d–”
• “Don’t speak for him Mason!” John snapped. “That boy needs to man the hell up. God forbid his vile urges returns and he st–”
• “John!” Brenda interrupted.
• Mason’s mouth snapped shut, he now only realized how tense his friend was and how he avoided eye contact with everyone. His jaw tight. Mason was aware that Emerson and his father didn’t get along but he wasn’t aware of the extent of it.
• “He just needs exposure.” Elvis supplied.
• John nodded. “I think you're right.” He addressed Olivia. “Bring more of your friends when next you come over, maybe Emerson would get lucky.” He spat the last part out with contempt.
• “Now isn’t the time to discuss such matters.” His mother intervened.
• Emerson’s eyes remained on the table, his father always managed to make him feel small. Speaking like he wasn't sitting right there.
• Olivia’s hand moved again and it burned, so much that Emerson not too kindly dislodged her hand for the second time, but they returned almost immediately–grasping onto Emerson’s member and squeezed hard.
• The motion jolted Emerson, he stood up so fast his cup tipped over spilling it content on his plate and table.
• “I need to use the bathroom.” He said already half way down the hall.
• Emerson stormed through the door and fell on his knees by the toilet. He heaved, throwing up what little he ate, his eyes stung from the action. He felt like a stranger in his home and to top it all, Olivia had to be her disgusting self, it shook Emerson’s core, this was the furthest she had ever gone. Her visit always consists of light touches here and there, but never to this extent, never before had she touched…his…his…
• The bile rose up again and Emerson hurled, he gripped the toilet seat so tight his knuckles turned white. When there was nothing left to throw up and he was feeling a little better he closed the lid of the toilet and flushed it before washing his face.
• The door opened without a knock and Mason stepped in, concerned in his voice. “Emerson, are you okay?”
• “I’m fine.” Emerson said, over the running water.
• “I’m sorry about what I said, I was just messing around, I…God, if I knew everything would blow up like that…I swear…” Mason must have seen something on Emerson's face, because his words died down and he took on a more softer tune. “Em?”
• At the endowment, Emerson felt a tear break free, he quickly wiped it off. But Mason saw it and pulled him into a tight hug.
• “Hey, look at me.” He said, taking hold of Emerson's hands to stop his aggressive wiping of his eyes. Emerson wouldn’t hold his gaze, opting to slump his head on his friend's shoulder.
• “It’s nothing…I’m fine really.”
• Mason didn’t believe a word that came out of Emerson, but he decided to let it go.
• “Will you stay over?” he asked after a while. His voice so small it sounded nothing like him, he was scared-knowing his parents they would surely ask Olivia to spend the night, they always did and Emerson was not ready to find out how far Olivia would go if given the chance.
• “Do you really want me to stay?” Mason asked, patting Emerson back before hugging him tightly.
• Emerson managed a small nod.
• “Okay, I’ll text my mom later.”