Chapter 8: Hate and Healing
Trigger warning: Characters show their scars in this chapter. There are some more mentions and depictions of domestic abuse, including child abuse.
Marinette was at work, on lunch break. She and her colleagues, Phil Belmont and Charlotte Lacroix, were watching a talk show.
"Hey," said Marinette suddenly, "that's Capucine Agreste! My friend Adrien's ex!"
"Adrien Agreste?" said Charlotte. "The model?"
"We went to school together," said Marinette. "What is she doing here?"
The three viewers watched.
"So, Capucine," said the interviewer, "you say that your husband -" she said the words with venom - "abused you by "hitting you and threatening you repeatedly. Could you tell us a little more about it?"
"It was horrific, really," said Capucine tremulously. "This scar he gave me was when we fought over which school to send our daughter to." She pointed to the one on her arm, that Marinette had seen yesterday. "And this mark on my face up here is from when he put a cigarette in my face."
"I see," said the woman. "Was it hard for you to do this?"
"It was hard," replied Capucine. "People were telling me that I had done something to deserve it, that I wasn't a good wife. But ultimately, it was taking my daughter into account that I did this."
"What's your message to other women out there in the same situation as you?"
"Be brave," she said. "Don't be afraid to call for help. Domestic abuse should be eradicated completely, so it's important to teach men about respect towards women."
"Indeed," said the woman. "It's important for men to be good husbands and to protect their wives. Thank you for coming, Capucine. In the meantime, let us now talk some more about the allegations of abuse brought up against former model Adrien Agreste."
"Wow," said Phil. "Adrien must be sick, to assault a woman like that."
"God knows what he would've done to his child," said Charlotte.
"Guys," said Marinette defensively, "I myself know Adrien quite well, and I have known him to be a very good, very caring family man. I seriously doubt he would do something like that."
"Get real, Marinette," said Phil, "when was the first time the woman was the abuser?"
"I'm no expert, Phil," continued Marinette. "But it's hard to take men seriously when they say that they have problems, especially with attitudes like yours."
"People aren't always whom they seem to be," said Charlotte. "Your trust in Adrien Agreste is misplaced."
Marinette cracked.
"I'm not talking to you," she said sharply, and she grabbed her things and marched off to her cubicle.
"People aren't always whom they seem to be."
That much was true. Marinette was thinking about Capucine, back at home. She was a busy woman, easily stressed, and prone to fits of temper.
She had heard her shouting at Emma (sometimes for discipline, at other times for minor things) more than once.
Adrien seemed to submit to her all the time. Then again, he was a bit of a chronic people-pleaser, but he bent over backwards for his wife quite often.
And although he'd put them down to unlucky accidents, the marks she saw on him seemed more suspicious than ever.
Capucine now seemed really funny. Could she have been abusing Adrien, and playing the gender card by stating that men were dangerous...?
Nah. Capucine was, flaws aside, a generous and loving person. She did love her husband and daughter deeply. And she also had a degree in Social Studies: she knew about domestic abuse fairly well. She wouldn't have been too violent, if at all, to Adrien and Emma.
Was this all a coincidence?
Just then, there was a knock at the door. Marinette went to see who it was.
"Who is it?" she said.
"Aunt Marinette," came a voice, "it's Emma."
Marinette opened the door, surprised.
"Emma!" she said. "Don't tell me you came here on your own!"
"I actually did," said Emma sheepishly. "I didn't know what to do."
"Well, that was very wrong of you," Marinette told her firmly, "putting yourself in danger like that, not to mention on such a rainy night. What brings you here?"
"Nothing," said Emma.
"Well, you're drenched," continued Marinette. "Let me get you some dry clothes."
"You won't tell my mum, will you?" said Emma, a tinge of desperation in her tone.
"Once you've had a hot shower and changed your clothes," said Marinette, "you can tell her everything yourself. Now, run along."
Emma went into the bathroom. Marinette thought back on her words.
You won't tell my mum, will you?
That trace of fear in the voice. Marinette was starting to suspect Capucine again.
Capucine was Emma's only present parent now, and it would be only right to send her back to her... right?
All kids were scared of consequences. Heck, she herself was too scared to own up to her parents, for something wrong she did.
Marinette would have Emma call Capucine, and hopefully she'd be appropriately punished. Why was she here on her own in the first place? Had she argued with her mother and run away from home?
Marinette turned to see Emma, now wearing Marinette's old pyjama tank top and trousers - the ones she herself had cut for Emma.
And there was a bruise on her shoulder.
"My goodness," gasped Marinette, "your shoulder is bruised. Sit down on the sofa, I'll get some ice."
"I'll be okay, Aunt Marinette," said Emma.
Marinette gave the girl a look that read, "Do I have to repeat myself?"
Emma trudged over to the sofa, while Marinette picked up a cold compress. She applied it to Emma's shoulder.
"Now," said Marinette, "how did this happen?"
Emma paused. Her face fell, and her lip quivered.
"Em?" said Marinette.
"My mum did this," murmured Emma.
"Y-your mum did this?" said Marinette quietly.
Emma nodded. "Today, we got our reports from school. And I got a D on one test. And I told her and..." Pause. "She pushed me against the fridge."
"She did?" said Marinette. Emma nodded.
"And then she took off her belt," continued Emma.
"I don't like where this is going," said Marinette, as Emma rolled up her trouser leg and lifted her foot.
An angry red welt, that bled, was there.
"Wait there," said Marinette, and returned with a plaster and ointment. "She did all of this to you?"
Emma nodded, as though she was used to it.
"It's not the first time," she said.
"What has she done?" inquired Marinette. "Tell me if you want to."
"Emma," said 30-year-old Capucine, "bedtime!"
2-year old Emma was playing with her blocks.
"I said, it's time for bed, sweetie," repeated her mother. Emma ignored her.
"Em, honey," coaxed Capucine. "It's time for bed!"
"No!" said Emma, learning how to speak.
Capucine's temper flared.
"HOW DARE YOU!"
WHACK.
Emma was crying hysterically; her mother had clocked her round the face. She'd now grabbed the girl and plonked her in bed.
"YOU SPOILED LITTLE BRAT!" shouted Capucine. "DON'T THINK YOU CAN MISBEHAVE AND GET AWAY WITH IT!"
"Mummy?" said 5-year-old Emma one midnight, standing in the doorway of her parents' room. It was in New York, the family had moved.
Her mother stirred.
"What?" she said.
"I had an accident again," said Emma tremulously. "Can you help me?"
"WHAT?"
Capucine was up like a boomerang, and had grabbed Emma by the hands.
"YOU WET THE BED AGAIN?" she shrieked.
"For God's sake, Capucine," murmured Adrien, as he awoke. "The hell's going on?"
"YOU STUPID BABY!" screamed Capucine. "THAT DOES IT! PUT THIS ON!"
She grabbed a white piece of cloth and forcefully wrapped it around Emma's sodden crotch. Emma cried in fear.
"THAT'S RIGHT, WEAR THIS! AND SHIT AND PISS IN IT ALL THE TIME, LIKE THE LITTLE BABY YOU ALREADY ARE! AND START CRYING TOO!"
"Capucine, STOP!" shouted Adrien. He grabbed his wife from behind, and she stopped attacking her daughter.
"Leave our daughter alone!" he warned. "Or else I'll call the cops on you! I don't care how stressed you are, don't humiliate Emma like that ever again!"
Capucine stopped, and sat on the bed. Adrien turned to Emma.
"It's alright, sweetie, it was an accident," he said. "Come on. Let's get changed and then I'll fix your sheets."
Emma, still sniffling, nodded and took Adrien's hand.
"Mum?" said Emma, nervously. She was now 6 years old, had just started calling her parents 'Mum' and 'Dad', and was struggling with a maths problem.
"Yes, honey?" said Capucine, getting up.
"Can you help me solve this maths problem?" said Emma.
"Let me see," said Capucine. "What is 5 X 6? 5 plus 5 is 10, okay? So 5 plus 5 plus 5 is 15. 5 plus 5 is 5 X 2, and 5 plus 5 plus 5 is 5 X 3. So what's 5 plus 5 6 times?"
Emma tried to understand.
"5 plus 5 plus 5 plus 5 plus 5 plus 5..." she said, counting. "25?"
"No," said Capucine, a little impatiently this time. "What's 5, added to 6 more 5s?"
Emma was confused.
"11?"
"No, Emma!" Capucine barked. "What is 5 plus 5, plus 5, plus 5, plus 5, plus 5?"
Emma tried to think.
"35?"
"NO, YOU STUPID GIRL!" shouted Capucine... except this time, Emma couldn't hear what she was yelling.
Capucine had shouted directly into Emma's ear. Her hearing would not be the same for several weeks that followed.
"Tell me the truth," hissed Capucine. "Tell me the truth. You broke that vase, didn't you?"
"Mum," begged Emma, who was now 9. "I'm sorry. It was an accident!"
"It was an accident, it was an accident!" mocked Capucine. "That's what you say every single time! You're a waste of space, do you know that?"
"Please don't do it Mum, don't do it..."
"Don't fight back, young lady!" shouted Capucine. She grabbed a wooden spoon from the kitchen and brought it over Emma's buttocks.
"STOP!" screamed Emma.
"SHUT UP, YOU LITTLE COWARD!" yelled Capucine.
"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?" yelled another voice. Emma hoped it was her dad, coming to her rescue, but nope: it was the television. Emma had accidentally kicked the remote control on.
The resulting disturbance only caused the wooden spoon to come down harder. When it stopped, Capucine grabbed Emma's hair.
"Not a word to anyone about this," she hissed, "or I'll kill you. Do you understand?"
Emma nodded slightly.
"Oh, my," said Marinette. Emma's mind had travelled backwards, as she had told her honorary aunt through the memories of shouting, severe corporal punishment, and humiliation. "Your mum did that?"
"You don't believe me, do you?" said Emma, almost bitterly.
"Doesn't your dad know about this?" said Marinette.
Emma nodded. Then, wordlessly, she broke into quiet, heartbroken sobs.
Marinette, without a second thought, scooped the girl up into her arms and held her on her lap, against her chest.
"C'mon, darling," said Marinette soothingly. "Tell me everything, if you're ready."
SLAP.
Capucine's hand had cracked against Emma's face again. They had argued about Emma's school trip, with Capucine not allowing Emma to go.
This time, though, Adrien had seen it all happen.
"Capucine?!" he said furiously. "What the fuck did you just do?"
"I'm so sorry, Adrihoney," said Capucine sweetly. "Emma was just acting up a little."
"And you just hit her," hissed Adrien. "In fact, you've been hitting her all along, haven't you?"
"Of course not!" laughed his wife.
"Don't lie to me!" shouted Adrien. "I stayed with you only because I thought Emma needed you! Well, apparently she could do without you. Yesterday, I went to check on her when she was in bed, and I saw a mark on her face! It all makes sense now, doesn't it?"
"SHUT UP, YOU STUPID BASTARD!" yelled Capucine. "DON'T TALK ABOUT THINGS YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!"
"IF I WAS THE ONE WHO WAS HITTING YOU, I'D BE BEHIND BARS!" retorted Adrien. "YOU CAN DO WHATEVER YOU WANT TO ME, BUT DON'T YOU DARE LAY A FINGER ON EMMA!"
SMASH.
Down came a bottle of wine. Emma could only watch in horror.
Adrien now lay on the floor, bleeding from his head. Blood poured, but Adrien didn't lose consciousness.
"That's it," said Adrien. "I'm leaving you, and I'm taking Emma with me."
"Don't even think about going to the police," said Capucine. "They won't believe you, because you are a man."
"Dad?" said Emma, holding Adrien's hand. They were now at the airport.
"Yes, princess?"
"Will mum come after us again?"
Adrien shook his head. "No, darling. Not if I can help it. You and me against the world, okay?"
"Okay," said Emma. The two of them would soon be on the plane to Paris.
Marinette held her honorary niece in her arms. It hurt to see Emma like this, sobbing her eyes out while recounting the painful memories of what she had endured.
Maybe that was why she'd lashed out at another child in class: he'd been making fun of her home life. For all she knew, Emma could have been a bully, making the lives of the other kids hell. She wasn't; that one incident happened because she just couldn't put up with what was happening anymore.
Marinette stroked Emma's back, held her lips to her cheek, and bounced her slightly on her knee. No amount of comfort would really relieve the girl of her trauma. But she'd done a good job of hiding her scars, presumably due to the threats.
Emma's cries soon subsided, though she didn't let go of Marinette.
"Em," said Marinette, "you just did something very, very brave. It's not easy to talk about something like this, is it?"
Emma shook her head.
"You've done the right thing," said Marinette. "I'm so proud of you. And I promise, I promise we'll save your dad from jail."
Emma sniffled again, and hugged Marinette tightly. Marinette hugged her back.
"Now," she said, "why don't you wash your face? What you need now is a nice hot dinner, and then I'll put you to bed. Okay?"
Emma nodded, and climbed off Marinette's lap, heading to the bathroom sink. Marinette was about to go to the kitchen, when someone called. It was Capucine.
"Hello?" said Marinette.
"Marinette, have you seen Emma?" said Capucine nervously. "She's missing!"
"No," said Marinette. "I haven't seen her, but I'll tell you if I do. I hope everything turns out okay. Talk to you later. Bye."
"Was that my mum?" said Emma, who had returned to the room.
"Yes it was," said Marinette, smiling. Emma ran to Marinette and hugged her once more.
"Thank you, Aunt Marinette!" she cried joyfully. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
"And that's the first of Tintin's adventures," said Marinette, closing the book she'd picked for Emma's bedtime story.
"Tintin was really cool in that story," grinned Emma, looking up from where she lay.
"Yeah, I know," said Marinette. "D'you know someone else who was like that?"
"Who?"
"Aunt Alya," smiled Marinette.
"Really?" said Emma.
"Yeah," she said. "She's always loved superheroes and comic books, and she had wanted to become a reporter ever since we were in school - and because she never gave up, she achieved her dream. Do you want to hear one interesting story about her?"
"Yeah," said Emma, nodding.
Marinette proceeded to tell Emma about the time Alya had gone around looking for a mysterious beast in Paris, and how she had actually sighted what she thought was his spaceship, only to find that it was an aeroplane. The story soon evolved into casual, giggly girl-talk, with Emma telling her about her friend Janine back in New York.
"Right," said Marinette, about half an hour later. "It's ten o'clock. Why don't you get off to sleep now? I'll be out in the living room if you need me."
Emma nodded. "Goodnight, Aunt Marinette," she whispered.
"G'night, my favourite little girl," said Marinette, pressing a kiss to Emma's cheek. The girl, now safe in Marinette's care, drifted off, and Marinette thought to herself.
Adrien will be saved, she resolved. And Capucine, you're going down for what you did!
That was Chapter 8, a traumatic chapter for poor Emma. Let's hope she and Marinette can set things right. Stay tuned, and reviews are welcome!