Free The Righteous and The Wicked by April Emerson Page B

shines through her bedroom window, illuminating the empty side of the bed. The space that has been occupied by a ghost. She feels like she’s betraying someone who’s not even here. The wooden box lurks under her bed like a monster, and she gives in to the temptation to open it, to once again partake in her self-abusive ritual. She runs her fingers over the old initials “E.M.”
    Emma Mallory. The person she used to be.
    She takes out the picture and looks at Aaron’s hands resting on her full belly. Enormous smiles on both their faces, the joy that only expectant parents can know. So proud to almost be. She takes out her wedding ring and reads the inscription, “Our love shines brighter than the sun. You’ll always be my only one.”
    The grief Emma has been ignoring is ripping her apart again. She wipes her flowing tears, and wants to throw the ring out the window and set the box on fire. She wants to forget. Emma resolves to no longer labor as a servant to her past and her pain. She closes the lid with resentment. This time she doesn’t return it to its home beneath her bed. She stuffs it inside her closet, burying it alongside all of the other old things that she has no use for.
       
    Eric rises early, as always, and looks at the unfinished frame of the house he’s building, and the ladder and lumber that rest there. He would love to work, but he won’t disturb her. He stares at the low ceiling of his trailer and his feet hang off the edge of his tiny bed. He thinks about last night, the intensity of the perversion with the woman in the bathroom, and he’s so disheartened by his inability to control his urges.
    He’s made this useless vow a hundred times before—that this is the last time. He won’t do it again. He will stop. False promises and bargains. Always lying to himself. He wants to finally mean it. His dark secret has forced him to remain so isolated from the world that he has never tried to lean on another person. He has never felt that any kind of relationship could help him to be better.
    He thinks about finding Emma in the bar, and how the unexpected sight of her made him feel even more shame and disgust over his weakness. He thinks of Emma enveloped in his arms in the parking lot, absorbing what haunts him, seeming to absolve him of his sin. Her virtuous nature has kept him from feeling any attraction to her, but last night, it was just that element that he found so intoxicating. Eric has never before been attracted to anyone good. He has always found that only certain kinds of women fit the mold of what he needs. Only certain women will go down on him an hour after meeting him, or fuck him in a bathroom without even knowing his name. Eric has never had any use for the kind of girl that Emma is. He’s never been attracted to a girl like her . . . until now.
    Holding her last night brought him a feeling he has never experienced without being immersed in the ocean of his impulse. The all-consuming release was rivaled by the simplicity of just holding Emma in his arms. When he’s with her, he doesn’t think about finding his next victim. The incessant longing is absent. The sole rationale he has for this is that the blissful peace she brings to him outweighs his insatiable lust.
    Emma’s sensuality and femininity are not lost on Eric, and in spite of his growing attraction to her, he knows he could never treat her the way he treats his victims. Regardless of any temptation he may feel, he would never want to involve her in his sickness. He would never degrade her purity by dragging her down into his deep and sinful needs. If he had Emma in his life, he believes he could resist his addiction. For some reason, she’s like the mute button for the constant white noise of his deviance. She came into his life by accident, a woman as lonely and as lost as himself. In pain, just like him. The only way Eric feels he can stop feeding his disgraceful hunger is to throw himself headfirst into a