Color Me Pretty

him, so there's a bit of fine stubble on his jaw, a shade or two darker than the tufts of chestnut hair that peak out from under the edges of his black beanie. His eyes, though, wow. Just fucking wow. They slice straight through me, down to my rapidly beating heart, and I know without asking that Emmett thinks I'm beautiful. I don't feel it, though. Right now, I couldn't feel any more hideous.
    I lift my hands up to my scalp, to the frizzy tufts of red hair there, and I watch him follow my motion with a sad smile, reaching out to take my bandaged wrists in his fingers.
    “I'm sorry I'm so putrid,” I whisper and Emmett laughs, not cruelly but gently, like the wind in the trees, a sound that's neither judgmental or accusatory, just alive. Truthful.
    “You couldn't be as far from it if you tried. I think you're perfect, Claire.”
    “I'm half-dead.”
    “Aren't we all? The best we can do is embrace the half-alive bit, see where it takes us because eventually, we all succumb to that other side of ourselves. We just have to make sure that when we do,” Emmett puts the fingers of one hand under my chin and leans in close to me, teasing my mouth with his lips. “We have no regrets, that we go knowing we spent ever last drop.” Emmett kisses me soft, kills me with his heart and his heat and his lips. I start to cry again, but they're quiet tears, just a few leftover drops. I hope that once they're gone, they never come back.
    “My dad tried to shoot you? For real?” Emmett chuckles and this time, he's just being silly.
    “He took out a pistol and pointed it at my chest. Your mom stepped in between us. I mean, I don't know if he was serious or not … ” If it's possible, I think my face pales a little more.
    “No, he was serious,” I say and then I feel sick. How can my family think such terrible things about Emmett? They think he's a pervert because he loves me? Because he chose to worship my body to get to my soul? Fuck them. “What else happened?” I ask because I have to know, not because I want to.
    Emmett sighs and I can tell he doesn't want to talk about it. He sits down next to me and squeezes one of my hands between two of his. Mine are dwarfed instantly, hidden beneath strong, healthy flesh, flesh with color and substance and life. I close my eyes and pretend some of his strength is leaking into me, fortifying me for the shit I know is coming.
    Things are hard.
    They're going to get harder.
    Right now, I'm living through the ugly. One day, I hope it can be beautiful again. I want to paint the world with pretty, to color the earth with joy and life and substance. I think again back to that notebook, that drawing in blue colored pencil and Emmett's offer to let me create a design for his fashion show … It's too soon for that, I know, but at least there's something I can grasp onto, a goal to reach out towards. I tangle my fingers with Emmett's.
    “Your parents took all your stuff. I didn't know how to stop them, how to say no. I just … when they took you away, I tried to see you, but your family wouldn't let me, and then I just went home and laid in bed.” Emmett takes a deep breath and looks at the floor. “Your sister fired me.” I cringe.
    “She had no right to. That's not even legal, is it?” Emmett smiles softly.
    “Sure it is.”
    “Emmett, I'm sorry,” I say, and his gaze snaps to mine, eyes wide, face confused. His hands drop mine and rise to my face, pulling my forehead against his.
    “Don't be,” he whispers. “This isn't your fault.” I pull away and reach up a hand to the tube in my nose. I know Emmett was trying to protect me from this all along. Now I see why. He knew this wasn't going to work for me. God, I need to get the hell out of here. “I think, maybe, if Marlena hadn't come by that you'd have been okay, you know?” Emmett takes a sharp breath and draws my attention back to his face. “Claire, I want you to know that I really thought I was doing the best by you. I never meant for any of this to happen.” I smile back at him and bite my lower lip.
    “I know. And you were doing the right thing. Emmett, I can't have them watching over me, forcing … ” I start to choke on tears, on the feeding tube that's threaded down my throat and into my tortured belly. “Forcing me to eat. I have to do this on my own or I won't survive. Short term, this might work but long term, they'll kill me inside.”
    “I know.”
    Emmett and I stare at each other for awhile. I