Free The Righteous and The Wicked by April Emerson

gets wet simultaneously. She was right, and she wants to die. She was right, and she wishes she had been there.
    She imagines what went on. She feels jealous, empty, and angry. Angry that Aaron is gone, and yet she still can’t get rid of him. Angry that she’s alone. That this whore got to have Eric, and she can’t. She’s angry that the first person she has allowed to come anywhere near her is a twisted sex addict, but she’s most angry at herself for how turned on she is by his sin.
    Eric walks toward the door, but he’ll have to walk right past Emma to get there. She sits down, pulls her hair over her shoulder, and tries to hide behind it. She wants to disappear.
    Like Emma, Eric just wants to escape. He may have scrubbed his flesh clean of all evidence in the bathroom, but he cannot wash away the mark on his soul. His shame rises up like bile. Now that the rush is gone, he can see and he’s beginning to think with clarity. He feels overwhelming disgust, revulsion, and disappointment. He’s helpless and alone.
    Then he sees a girl at the bar. Beautiful dark hair, long legs, short dress. Some skeezy guy is trying to get with her and is failing. Eric wishes he had seen her before going for the other woman, and then kicks himself for having yet another sick thought. But it doesn’t matter now. It’s all over. The internal struggle he has wrestled with has exhausted him. It dawns on Eric that he’s no different from that guy at the bar. He’s just as bad. He’s no better. He walks past the dark-haired girl and his eyes move from her legs to her face. Shock and fury rise up inside him when he sees that it’s Emma.
    She’s looking down at her full glass like she wants to crawl inside it, avoiding the asshole next to her. The thought of Emma’s quiet elegance being tarnished by this hellhole is too much for Eric to bear.
    “What are you doing here?” He’s grinding his teeth. She looks up at him, and she looks different. She looks . . . sexy. Her eyes are angry.
    “ I’m having a drink. What are you doing here?”
    “You don’t drink, Emma. This place is a shithole. You shouldn’t be here. And who the fuck is this guy?”
    Her delicate loveliness, contrasted with this filthy place, the abhorrence that he just partook in inside the bathroom, and Emma’s proximity to a scumbag are turning Eric into a vial of acid.
    “This is Ryan. And maybe I like it here.” She answers him in a voice he has not heard from her yet. Antagonistic, like a defiant child. He wonders why she’s here with this guy and why she would subject herself to someone so unworthy of her.
    Eric will not tolerate it. If he can’t save himself, he needs to save someone. To keep one thing in this world good and clean. And he needs to get her out of here before he gives in to the temptation to beat the shit out of Ryan.
    “Get up. Let’s go. We’re leaving.”
    Eric grabs her elbow. Ryan stands, but the look Eric gives him makes him think twice about starting an argument.
    Emma shakes Eric off. “I can make my own decisions.”
    Their eyes are locked in an impasse. Eric’s fury and her defiance battle between their irises. He’s the first one to break. He crumbles against his need to preserve her purity. She must remain untouched by the evil this place exudes. He will not disappoint himself twice in one night. His fury dissolves into a plea, his shout to a whisper.
    “I just can’t leave you in this place. I’ll worry about you all night. Please, let’s just go. Please, Emma. Please, just come with me.”
    He has such desperation in his voice and his eyes, Emma cannot refuse him, and she doesn’t want to. His face has changed from aggressive to kind. Stormy Eyes has once again been replaced by Eric.
    She relents, and Eric takes her hand, guiding her out of the bar. She looks down at their joined hands and her feelings of envy and rejection are amplified. She wonders if this is the closest she’ll ever get to him. She vows to