by S C Thomas
The darkness closed, pulling her down, and her entire body went lax. A scream shattered the darkness but pushed her back under to be drowned once again.
Two
‘Are you alright? Emma, are you alright?’
She blinked slowly, the face above her fuzzy. How did he know her name? The voice was deep, manly, the only reason she knew it was a man. The fuzziness of his face didn’t help matters though. She wanted to see him, but something warm trickled down her face. Her world spun, threatening to drag her under
‘Emma?’
Her fingers twitched, the only part about her that seemed able to move. Everything else felt frozen, paralyzed. Her lips parted, but she felt the warm liquid enter her mouth. She coughed, sputtering out, and felt the liquid flying out of her mouth. She felt hands tugging at her seatbelt, a groan escaping her lips at the feeling of it digging into her skin. She blinked, trying desperately to get the world around her into view, but still only the man in front of her made any sense whatsoever.
‘You’re going to be okay, Emma. You’re going to be okay.’ He promised, his voice low in her ears, murmuring but determined to make sure she knew he was going to save her.
She felt the turn of her head, her eyes searching frantically for her mother, but she couldn’t see very far in front of her. She had to be next to her though, didn’t she? She had to be there, she just had to! Emma was in the passenger seat, her mother driving. Where was her mother? She felt the speed of her heart pick up, breath hitching in her throat, and tears stung her eyes, joining the warm liquid racing down her face. She opened her lips again, trying to talk but fingers pressed against her lips, stopping the gurgled sound that came from her mouth.
‘Don’t talk. You’re going to be okay.’
Her chest suddenly felt loose, the seatbelt snapping off her. Hands took hold of her shoulders, pulling her towards the window. Sirens wailed in her ears, defeaning her. Her body fell limp in the grip that was holding her, trying to pull her out. His fingers wrapped around her tightly, cutting off any remaining circulation that she had left, she wasn’t sure she had any left at all. She felt her body jerk and fall to the ground. Pain shot in electricity form, zapping through her body. A scream left her lips and a string of curse words entered her ears. She turned her head, her vision straightening out for just a moment. She blinked, looking up. His eyes crinkled into a smile at the sight of her, no doubt relieved that she was still alive. Dismissing his eyes, she finds the scar lining down his cheek, looking as though it had been there for a long time. Not recent, but a part of him. She stared at it for a moment, then back up to him.
His smile faded, the crinkle of his eyes drooping. ‘I’m so sorry.’ He whispered, fingers brushing her hair aside.
She still couldn’t move; despite the fact she was out of the car. Everything inside of her hurt. No, correction, almost everything inside of her hurt. She realized then that she couldn’t feel her leg, like it no longer existed. She let out a whimper, grimacing as more blood seeped down her face.
‘It’s going to be okay; I’ll be back. I promise.’ He whispered as the wailing sirens picked up in volume, wheel screeching as they came to a stop to the mess that was her and her mother’s vehicle.
She blinked, the shape of the man no longer in front of her. A hand pressed down on her, gently turning her over to see if she was still alive. Her eyes searched frantically for the man, but only focused on a crow disturbed by the paramedics rushing to her side, rising in the air and taking off in flight.
A gasp escaped her lips and Emma shot up in her bed, struggling to breathe for a moment as she gripped her side. She felt as if she had been running a one-hundred-mile marathon. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve actually thought she had been running a marathon. Shaking away the grogginess of sleep, she rubbed her eyes and picked out the eye boogers, crusted over in the corners of her eyes. She swore to herself that she felt more tired than she had when she’d gone to bed the night before. Was that even possible? Lately it sure seemed like it. She felt as though she hadn’t been getting enough sleep no matter how much she slept.
A jangle entered her ears and she looked up, her fingers instantly falling to her neck. Realizing her necklace was gone, she grappled at her neck, trying to see if the necklace had somehow gone invisible and she just wasn’t feeling it in the right place. But it was nowhere, even when she pushed her shirt collar away and didn’t find it
“Looking for something?”
Her head swiveled around, black strands whipping around her face as she turned her gaze on the girl, she shared a room with. The redhead tilted her head, running her tongue over her lips as she snickered and then stuck out her tongue at Emma and held up a chain dangling from her hand. Emma traced the chain down to the pendant and jerked forward, fingers trying to snatch at the necklace. The girl yanked it back, letting it swing from her fingers as she held it out of reach of the girl.
“You fell asleep, it’s mine now.” She sang and curled the chain around her hand, holding it tight. “I need money to get the hell out of here and your necklace is the only thing worth of value in this dump shit that I can get my hands on.”
Emma clambered from her bed, shivering when her feet hit the cold wood floor, but stood up, her hand flying out to grab at the necklace again in an attempt to grab at it. But the girl was quicker again and moved back quickly, getting further out of reach. Emma lunged at her but slammed to the ground on her front when her foster sister jumped out of the way. The air was knocked out of her lungs and she gasped, red and yellow dots flashing in front of her eyes and the world in front of her tilted slightly, pixelating over for a moment before it straightened out. Laughter rang in her ears, but Emma pressed her palms to the ground and pushed herself to her hands and knees.
“Give me it back, that’s mine!” She spat, feeling warm liquid in her mouth. She spat out the blood, watching as it sprayed the floor in red and pulled herself to her feet, holding out her hand. “Give me my necklace.”
The redhead rolled her eyes. “Did I stutter? I need to get out of this shithole. So, I’m going.”
Emma snorted, but the anger she had been suppressing for the last three months flared through her. It burned with fire; the embers sparked - the theft of her mother’s necklace was the last straw. She stepped forward once again, swiping out for the necklace, but her foster sister was far too quick for her. Once more, the girl danced out of the way, laughing as if it were the most hilarious thing in the world.
“You know, you aren’t the only one who wants out of this shit hole.” Emma snarled, her cheeks burning red in frustration and anger. “I want out of here and this crap town as well. You aren’t the only one allowed to steal to get out of here.”
The unruly curls of the redhead jostled, bouncing every which way as she shook her head, her lips stretching across her face in a wide grin. “Oh, and what are you going to do? I’m taking this,” she jangled the necklace teasingly in front of Emma, just out of her arm’s reach though. “It’s mine.”
Emma breathed a puff of air out of her nostrils, crossing her arms. “Seriously? You took that off my neck. What’s wrong with you?”
The other girl shrugged and untwisted the necklace from around her hand, putting it delicately into her pockets. As she turned, Emma’s feet moved quickly forward, jumping at the girl. She shrieked and went down when Emma landed on her back. The dark-haired girl saw red around her vision, tugging at the girl’s hand, trying to get into her pants pocket. The redhead twisted, shoving at Emma and managed while the girl was unsuspecting. She fell off and in the spilt second she was down, her foster sister jumped to her feet and over her body, rushing at the door.
Scrambling to her feet, Emma lunged herself at the girl, knocking her back to the ground. The two scrabbled for a few minutes, shoving and kicking and at points even pulling hair like those girls on television who fought for dramatic scenes, but at the moment it just seemed appropriate that they did it. Whatever they could
do to hurt one another, they managed.
Her foster sister, whose she really needed to learn to remember, finally pinned Emma to the ground by her shoulders, knees holding her down. “I’m leaving,” she growled, her teeth ground together. “And I’m using the damn necklace!”
Emma twisted beneath her, but she was so pinned down she couldn’t move her arms or legs, only shaking her head. “Geroffme.” She grunted, finding it difficult to even breath beneath the girl.
The redhead was slightly huskier than Emma, a con in the fact that she was being down by her. Had she been skinnier, Emma might’ve stood a chance at actually shoving her off. But as it stood. The just slightly pudgy girl knew her advantage and had taken advantage of it.
“It’s mine, my mom left that with me! It’s all I have left, please!” Emma begged, desperately trying one more route that seemed futile to attempt.
The light overhead flickered, throwing their shadows dancing around the room. The hands holding her down tightened their grip, cutting off circulation and Emma kicked out, her feet scuffling against the carpet to try and break free one last time. Her heart was racing, pounding in her ears, and the world above her was teetering - wavering as if she were underwater looking up.
“It’s mine.” The redhead laughed, her eyes sparking mercilessly.
It was the last straw. The words rang clear in Emma’s ears, the light above brightening, growing larger in her vision, but her knee rose, slamming upwards. She could feel it connecting with a thick thigh, the closest thing she could reach and a satisfying groan in pain that reached her ears, grip lazing upon her, was all she needed. Emma twisted, pushing up until the redhead fell off her and scrambled to her feet, bending down to reach for the necklace that was now spilling out the pocket.
The foster sister threw up a hand, blocking her attempt and sent Emma hurtling into the front of the bed, falling to the ground. She gasped, her body growing numb from the impact to block from feeling it and lifted her head. The light grew brighter, almost blinding like the sun and she had to cower. The now dark figure of the foster sister against the light moved towards the light and desperation seared down her spine. But anger flared in her stomach, racing through every vein.
A pop rang in their ears and darkness enveloped them.
Emma took what she figured was her last chance and launched herself at the girl, slamming her to the ground and found the edge of the chain. Grabbing at it, she pulled it from her pocket and jumped up as hands grabbed at her, hurling herself at the bed, shoving it beneath a blanket to keep from being found until she was alone and could put it somewhere safe that wouldn’t be found.
At that exact moment, as her hand slid out from beneath the blanket, the door flew open.
“What the hell is going on here?” A voice shouted, irritation at being interrupted with her showtime. “What the hell happened to my light?”
“She did it,” the redhead spat as she pulled herself to her feet, blood dripping over her bottom lip and tracing down her chin, pointing a trembling finger at Emma. “I don’t know how, but she did it. I know it.”
The older woman looked at Emma with beady eyes, her lips pursing at the mess she could see from the light of the door spilling through. Her eyes fell to the glass shards that belonged to the light, nostrils flaring in anger and annoyance.
“What is wrong with you, child?” She snarled, shaking her head in annoyance.
“I-I-I didn’t.” Emma stammered, but knew it was hopeless to try and defend herself. She wouldn’t be believed anyways. “I didn’t do it.”
Her voice reminded her of the kid on the Polar Express, trying to deny that he had stuck gum in his sister’s hair. The woman who housed them looked at her scornfully, lips pressed together in disbelief. Of course, she didn’t believe her, she never did. Maybe it was because Emma hadn’t been there as long as the rest and hadn’t gained her full trust yet. Or maybe it was just the woman didn’t like her. That wouldn’t bother Emma, nobody was like by everybody. But if that was the reasoning, she wanted to know why. What had she done so wrong for this woman to dislike her? All she had done was come live with her and try to stay out of trouble, but that was easier said than done with the kind of roommate she had.
The woman licked her lips and glanced over her shoulder, rubbing her face before turning back to the girls. “You know what, just forget it. What was this all about in the first place?”
“She stole from me!” The redhead piped, making Emma’s cheeks burn even brighter in anger. “And she said she was going to sift through your things to get something worthy enough of selling so she could run away.”
Scraggly blonde hair slapped against her face as the woman slammed a hand to the door frame, glaring straight at Emma who backed up a few feet in terror. “I’ve had enough with you, young lady!” She snarled and reaches forward, grasping Emma’s wrist. “Come with me.”
“No!” Emma resisted, digging her heels into the ground, struggling to get her off. “I didn’t do anything or say anything! She’s lying, she’s the one who wants to run away!” She said desperately, trying to pull out of the grip but it was a futile attempt, the woman was just too strong on her.
Either that, or Emma just didn’t have the strength to fight as much as she wanted to. But her mind kept on the necklace she had hid beneath the bed’s blankets, her heart desperate to stay in the room and save it. If she left now, she had no doubt the girl would tear up the room to try and find it, and if she did, there would be no getting it back.
But the woman yanked on her arm, hauling her from the room against all her protests, and against her struggle to drag her back. None of it was of any use. She was pushed into a chair as they entered the dining room, teetering on a leg as she was pushed back and then slammed forward to the ground. She watched as her foster mother stormed off, muttering beneath her breath incomprehensible words that Emma wished she could just hear. But the further she got away, the else that wish seemed able to happen.
Her voice mumbled from the kitchen, louder than talking beneath her breath and Emma sank in her chair. This was her third foster home in the last three months since waking up from a coma in the hospital. With no family to claim her, they’d had no choice but to hand her over to the government who shoved her in with the first family they could find that was willing to take in a teenager. She had found out way too quickly that most foster homes preferred younger kids and it was a special kind of foster parents that would take in the teenagers who had managed to slip through the cracks and go unadopted. Because once that first teen hear hit, being adopted was less than a quarter percentage.
Emma knew she didn’t want to be adopted though. She wanted to grow out of the system and move on with her life, never looking back again. As soon as she hit that eighteenth year, she was packing her bags and leaving. No one could stop her then, no one could tell her what to do then.
But for now, she had to listen to the phone call that would take her to her next foster home. She tried; she really did try. But it never ended in a good way. She was always the one to blame and being the newest in the home, it was hard to believe that Emma wouldn’t do what she was blamed if. That was the thing of still being fresh into the system; no one ever believed her when she didn’t do anything wrong. It was easiest to believe that the mystery girl had done it instead of who they thought was sweet and full of candy.
“Go pack your things,” the voice cut through Emma’s thoughts like a knife splicing open a pie. “Your social worker will be here soon to take you somewhere else. Go.” She snapped her fingers and Emma jumped to her feet, racing up the stairs to do as she was told.
Entering the room, her heart thudding in expectation to it being trashed in the girl trying to locate her necklace, she stopped dead to see it just as she had left it. A rustling behind her had Emma glancing over her shoulder and found the redhead sneaking out of the master bedroom, shoving jewelry into her pockets before going downstairs. She shut the door quickly and located her necklac
e, clasping it around her neck and went about busying herself to pack her items. Which by this point wasn’t too many things: just one duffel bag and a drawstring knapsack. She had learned in the beginning trying to tow all her mother’s belongings and everything she had collected growing up was a nuisance when moving home to home. It probably helped that she had learned how to cope with little to no belongings when it had come to her and her mother’s travels. She had learned how to never get attached to material objects, to one place only, and how to pack up and go in an hour’s notice.
When she zipped up the duffel bag, she heard the doorbell chime and her name being called minutes later. Setting the two items on the bed, she climbed to her feet and descended the stairs. First were the rules and what she needed to expect for a new home. Then they’d leave. But if she acted in a hurry, they would get suspicious. They always got suspicious.
The man standing just inside the door stopped her in her steps, staring at him with her mouth agape. Was she still breathing? Her thrumming heart told her she was. She blinked several times, trying to see if she was imagining it, but when he didn’t go away, she knew she wasn’t.
The scar on his left cheek was familiar, but the eyes reminded her of her mother. Her heart squeezed at the thought and she tried to push it away, desperate to not think about her when the wounds were still fresh.
“Hello, Emma. I’m so sorry about the wait.” He bowed his head, his hands clasped around the edges of a brimmed hat that he held against his chest in respect.
Emma’s mouth was too dry to speak and she was afraid if she moved forward, her legs would give out from beneath her.
Three
“Don’t be so rude, Emma.” The foster mother chastised, clicking her tongue to try and get the girl’s attention. “What do you say?”
Despite the woman practically shipping her off, she was still in charge until the minutes Emma left. She had to listen, but she just couldn’t wrap her head around on how to talk. Her tongue felt like it was too large for her mouth and her mouth itself felt like it was full of candy. There was no getting around this, she had to talk to him one way or another with him right in front of her, but at the same time, she just couldn’t. Her palms grew sweaty, her mouth opened but closed right away, and her shoulders dropped. What was she supposed to say if she could speak anyways?
