Empty Gold

Chapter 17: Gasoline

In the morning, Cece wakes up after a few hours of sleep to feel Alison latching tightly onto her still, small hands desperately clutching Cece's clothes, the wrinkles lend Cece to believe Ali has been clinging to her all night.

"Shh, sweetie it's okay," Cece coos sleepily into the girl's hair as she looks down at the blonde curled against her. "Try and sleep a little bit more."

"I don't want to leave," Alison's hoarse voice squeaks out as her fingers twist at the material tightly. "I don't want to leave Emily or you."

"And trust me, Emily doesn't want you to leave either," Cece tries to reassure her. "None of us do."

"W-why did she send me aw...away," Alison manages to stutter and stammer her way through her words as her voice wavers and her mouth quivers.

"Because she cares about you," the older blonde explains as she lets her hand rub gently along Ali's back. "She cares about you so much, Ali. Can you see that?'

She feels the fragile girl pause in silence before nodding slightly against her body.

"I'm gonna tell you a secret okay?" Cece whispers, using both hands to cuddle Alison closer and she feels the younger blonde nod and relax into her embrace slowly but surely. "Emily is a deeply unhappy person, for a multitude of reasons. Maybe she thinks I'm not sharp enough to tell, but I've always known. She's also got a heart of gold. The Emily Fields I know and love and signed, she wouldn't send you away to hurt you. She's trying to do what's best to protect you."

Alison tries to wrap her mind around that. Protect her? How did sending her off to Cece's protect her—granted, Maya can't come here but she feels safer wrapped up in Emily's arms though she herself doesn't quite understand why.

x-x-x

Emily spends a horribly fitful, sleepless night in Ali's temporary room in the laundry. She couldn't stomach being in her own room, not after what happened in there. She couldn't even look at the mattress knowing what Maya had done. The swimmer closes her eyes tightly but the image of Maya forcing herself upon Ali is forever imbedded and while she didn't witness the act, Emily's cruel imagination doesn't seem to have any problems replicating horror upon horror.

She should have killed Maya. Maybe if she had then some of this crushing guilt would be lifted and she wouldn't feel so goddamn wrong. In her mind, she has failed Ali, even if Maya were dead. She failed to protect Ali and she can barely stand any reminder of that haunting fact.

Eventually, Emily decides lying on Ali's air mattress is not achieving anything except for a bad back. Alison will never fucking sleep on that goddamn thing ever again, Emily vows to herself, and she decides the first thing she needs to set right is Ali's comfort. She needs to call the contractor and make sure the renovations for the guest room are sped up, Ali needs to be comfortable. She pushes away the little voice that suggests Alison isn't coming back, and instead grabs her phone to dial, until she realizes no one is awake at six am to answer her phone call.

As she wanders into the kitchen Emily catches sight of one of her many bottles of scotch and she doesn't even think twice before she pours herself a glass. She managed to not drink for six hours, and it's driving her insane. She's running on nothing but guilt and alcohol—no sleep and no energy. It's early in the morning but its also been a hell of a night, and she doesn't think she deserves this but it may take the edge off. If she's going to play nice with contractors all day she's gonna need it.

But one drink quickly becomes two and before long she's lost count, like always. Suitably numb, she wanders up to her bedroom and stares into the space that was once a sanctuary and now feels like a prison. The king sized bed with its perfect mattress mocks her as she stumbles in, images of Alison on her back with Maya viciously atop her assault Emily and she throws her drink onto the bed in protest.