by Matthew Fish
Emma laughs as she wipes away the tears from her eyes and covers herself up with a blanket. “I’m sorry about that—I don’t know what that was all about. Remember, I’m a little crazy I think.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Ethan says as he smiles. “I like you just the way you are. Would you like me to stay?”
“I would rather sleep alone,” Emma objects, in all honesty she would not mind the company—but she knows that she will have visitors in the morning. “I mean, I like you…a lot. I really do. I just feel a bit more comfortable alone right now. I would love to see you again.”
“Before I go,” Ethan says as he collects his clothing. “Can I ask you out?”
“I thought you already did?”
“I mean formally,” Ethan adds. “I mean as a ‘you’re my girlfriend’ kind of thing.”
“Well we already got the sex out of the way and that was pretty great,” Emma says a she teases Ethan. “So I suppose, that would be fine.”
Ethan laughs as he nods. “Next time, I’ll shoot for better than ‘pretty great.’”
Emma, wrapped up in a blanket, walks Ethan down to the front door. She kisses him once goodnight as he leaves. The heat from outside enters the cool house as she shuts the door behind him. Just another reminder that she only has five more days left—if the other versions of her are correct.
Back in bed, the unfairness of the situation enters her mind. What is the point of it all? She is finally happy—she has made a romantic connection. She is doing what the other versions of herself want her to. She feels that she is getting better in some regards, but her mind keeps looping back to the idea that it is all for nothing. There has to be some way to stop this, especially now that she has something worth fighting for. As she reluctantly drifts off into slumber—her mind keeps wandering back to that intimate moment with Ethan.
Day 3
Chapter 4: Bargaining
Emma finds herself back in the brick hallway. Only this time, her mind is aware that this is another dream. She can feel the heat, it is overwhelming. She wonders if this is how it will be when her time ultimately comes. She apprehensively approaches the brick wall—she knows the routine by now…the charred bodies, reaching out for her. The screams, the burning touch of their hands against her skin—worse than any sunburn she has inflicted upon herself all these years. Emma sits upon the concrete floor. This time, she simply waits for the end so that she can wake up.
As Emma waits, a girl rushes past her and runs down the hall. It is another version of Emma. The girl looks back once, Emma recognizes the eyes. She quickly gets to her feet and begins to chase Alexis.
“Stop…!” Emma shouts as she feels as though she is running in slow motion.
She follows Alexis all the way into the greenhouse. Alexis begins searching through boxes, tossing them aside.
“What are you looking for?” Emma asks as she approaches her clone.
Alexis acts as though Emma does not even exist and continues to ransack the large greenhouse. Alexis rips apart a large wooden storage box finding only books, frustrated; she tosses them aside and kicks the empty box and lets out a scream.
“What are you doing?” Emma presses. However, just as before, Alexis does not acknowledge her.
“Where the fuck is it?” Alexis says aloud as she circles the large room. She eyes the bed and approaches it, she climbs down to her knees and looks beneath the bed. She then climbs beneath the bed to where only her bare legs are exposed. After a bit of rustling about, she returns with a large silver knife.
“I know that knife,” Emma whispers as she nervously looks around the room.
Alexis looks pleased with her discovery. She attempts to take a few steps forward and collides with Emma. “What…?”
“Alexis?”
“What are you doing awake?” Alexis asks as she attempts to hide the blade in the folds of her white dress.
“What is that—that knife,” Emma asks. “I’ve seen it before. I’ve been…stabbed by it before.”
“It’s not your business.”
“What do you mean? Whose business is it?” Emma asks as she balls her fists in frustration.
Alexis points upward to the sun that shines brightly through the trees. “Its business…”
Emma looks up and is blinded by its brilliance. She shields her eyes with her hands and turns her attention to Alexis who now holds the blade to Emma’s chest.
“What are you doing?” Emma asks nervously as she can feel the sharp edge of the knife against her skin.
“You shouldn’t be awake,” Alexis repeats as she presses the knife against Alexis and draws a tiny bead of crimson blood from her flesh.
“I’m still asleep,” Emma protests as she attempts to back away, but finds herself glued to the spot. It is as though the ground has melted beneath her feet and is keeping her firmly in place.
“How are you here?” Alexis asks as she raises the blade to Emma’s throat.
“Sol…” Emma reads from the familiar inscription on the fancy blade.
With one swift motion Alexis slices at Emma’s throat. Emma attempts to talk but only manages to gurgle up an unhealthy amount of blood. She can feel herself falling down to the floor—instead of a hard surface she is greeted by a soft cushion of earth. Alexis begins to walk away, wiping the blood stained blade against the edge of her dress.
Emma attempts to cry out for help. She cannot do so. She can hardly even breathe. Like quicksand she feels herself sinking further and further into the earth. The sunlight blinds her overhead and the light from its all encompassing glow engulfs her. The ground swallows Emma completely as she is overcome by panic.
Emma jumps up in bed. Just as so many mornings before, she is covered in sweat. She tosses the damp blanket to the ground and attempts to remember why she is naked and in her attic bedroom again. Then the memory of the time she spent with Ethan returns to her mind as it begins to calm down from the shock of the nightmare.
“Sol,” A familiar voice says, catching Emma of guard.
“Elizabeth…” Emma whispers as she turns to the girl who sits upon the old sun worn couch. Emma quickly gets up from the bed and pulls a long pink t-shirt from the closet and covers up her naked form.
“It’s Latin for sun,” Elizabeth whispers.
“Could you see…?” Emma begins, as she attempts to comprehend Elizabeth’s words. It is far too early and Emma is still groggy. “…my dream?”
“It’s strange,” Elizabeth says as she raises her knees up to her chin and wraps her arms around her legs. “I have a memory of it—when I arrived, I had this in my mind.”
“So is it real?” Emma asks as she sits back down against her sweat soaked bed.
“The knife…?”
“I believe it is,” Elizabeth says as she nods once. “I think Alexis has it now.”
“What does it mean?” Emma asks as she attempts to make any sense of the dream. “Why was she so intent on finding it?”
“I don’t know that,” Elizabeth says as her eyes narrow and a sad frown forms on her face. “I know that we can keep things…”
“The necklace,” Emma says as she notices the familiar, sun shaped, yellow glass necklace around Elizabeth’s neck. “It went with you?”
“It did,” Elizabeth replies. “I suppose that means that Alexis can take that knife with her. I don’t think she can be trusted—even if she is one of us.”
“Do you know that?”
“It’s just what I feel,” Elizabeth says in a tone that is almost jealous. “Alexis seems to be able to do things I can’t.”
“Elizabeth,” Emma whispers.
“Yes?”
“We’re friends, right?” Emma asks as she gets up from her bed and places her hands upon Elizabeth’s shoulders. “I mean I care for you—and you take care of me.”
“I think we are,” Elizabeth says as she nods robotically. “When I was sent here, I had this notion that I’d hate you—or that you’d hate me. You�
��re not like I thought you would be.”
“Well I was more like Alexis,” Emma whispers as she continues to keep her gaze upon Elizabeth. “Until someone changed that, maybe you—but that doesn’t matter. I don’t hate you.”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth whispers. “Though I’m not worthy of your friendship.”
“You are.”
“I’m not as important…”
“Look, you are extremely important to me,” Emma says reassuringly. “I need to know, from a friend to a friend, is there anything I can do to stop all of this from happening?”
“You care about someone—a relationship,” Elizabeth whispers.
“Yes,” Emma says as she nods her head emphatically. “So please, if you know anything—even if you don’t think it is important. Even if it is something you’re supposed to keep from me. As a friend, I’m begging you.”
“I’m sorry Emma,” Elizabeth says as she hides her eyes and begins to weep softly. “…there is nothing that I know that I haven’t told you.”
“It is alright Elizabeth,” Emma whispers as she places her arms around the fragile girl. Her body feels tepid to the touch. She does not understand why this version is sick, or has been growing weak—perhaps; it has something to do with Alexis being so powerful.
“I fear that this is my last day,” Elizabeth says as she continues to cry.
“Why would it be?” Emma asks. “You thought you wouldn’t be back today, but you are here.”
“It is just how I feel.”
“I know you feel that way, but it doesn’t have to be that way—just keep hanging on,” Emma says as she squeezes Elizabeth’s shoulders firmly. “I’ll find a way to fix this if I can. I’ll find a way to make you normal, I promise.”
“I don’t deserve it.”
“Look, I get it—“Emma says as she takes Elizabeth by hand. “You were sent to tell me something terrible, to keep me playing this game that I have to see through to the end—it does not mean that I do not care for you. You aren’t like me. You’re kind. You may look like me, but you are your own person.”
“You’re kind as well—you’re too kind to me.”
“If I have become kind, it is because you have shown me how to be so.”
“Someone’s at the door,” Elizabeth whispers.
“Right now…?”
Elizabeth nods. They won’t come in though. They are just going to wait for you to come down.
Emma quickly gets dressed, tossing on some tight grey running shorts and pair of mismatched socks. “It must be Hope…”
“I’ll have something ready for you for when you come back,” Elizabeth says subserviently as she nods.
“Why don’t you come with us?” Emma asks as she slips into a pair of worn white sneakers. “Getting out of the house would probably do you a lot of good.”
“Alexis was right,” Elizabeth says sadly as she looks down to the floor. “I can’t leave the house.”
“I’m sorry…”
“Don’t keep her waiting too long,” Elizabeth says as she gestures for Emma to leave. “Little girls can be impatient.”
Emma rushes down the spiral staircase and opens the door. Just as Elizabeth had predicted, a young version of Emma stands in a white dress. The sun illuminates her light wheat blonde hair causing it to glow in the morning air.
“You said you would play with me if I came,” Hope says as she folds her arms impatiently against her chest.
“It’s pretty hot outside,” Emma says as she can feel the heat in the air seeping in through the open door. “Would you like to come inside for a drink before we go?”
“I don’t drink,” Hope replies. “I don’t want to come in either.”
“Alright Hope,” Emma says as she nods and steps out of the house and follows Hope down the cement staircase. “Where are we going?”
“I always liked the woods—I have a favorite place I like to play. Would you like to see it?”
“Of course I would,” Emma says as she allows the little girl to lead her by hand.
The pair runs through the woods. A small breeze offers Emma a little comfort from the otherwise oppressive heat. The sun flashes like a strobe light through the trees as Emma keeps in pace with the energetic girl. They stop as the woods thicken.
“This way,” Hope says as she leads Emma through a tiny opening in the thicket. Emma has to crawl on her hands and knees to enter. The small passage leads to a thick, dim, forest. Trees of all different sizes line the view ahead. The ground is covered in soft moss. There is a sense of familiarity, of sanctuary, to this place. If Hope used to play here—it is likely that Emma often played here.
“Look,” Hope whispers as she points off to the distance. “It’s a deer.”
“I used to see them all the time from my window in the attic…” Emma says as she ducks down and watches the majestic animal graze upon some low foliage. “I’ve never seen a white one before.”
“I see her all the time.”
“They like it here because no one but me comes out here anymore.”
“This is a pretty special place,” Emma says as she watches the deer bound off and disappear into the thick brush. “It’s very pretty.”
“This isn’t the place,” Hope says as she takes Emma by the hand once more.
“Still,” Emma says as she slowly begins to be led away. “This is a pretty nice place.”
“The place I play is a lot nicer—it’s a secret building.”
Emma and Hope walk along through the woods until they reach a glass building with a textured concrete foundation. The glass building is in perfect shape, it is full of trees and flowers that have overtaken the building.
“This is…the greenhouse?” Emma says questioningly. “It can’t be the same one. This one is perfect.”
“This is where I like to play,” Hope whispers as she places her hands against the glass. “Sometimes I leave the door open and the butterflies come in. You can see in through here.”
“Emma places her face against the glass, through a clearing of tangled bushes she can make out the familiar greenhouse. However, there is no tree that has broken its way through—a bed sits in the middle of the room surrounded by many different flowers and twisting, overgrown, bushes.
“What is that man doing to mommy?” Hope says in a shocked tone. “He’s attacking her...Help her Emma.”
Emma looks down to Hope, as she frustratingly beats her open hands against the low concrete wall.
“I don’t see…” Emma says as she returns her eyes to the bed. There, naked, she sees her mother—only she is much younger than she remembers. A man is on top of her, thrusting as beads of sweat drop down from his face and briefly catch the light of the sun as they fall to the bed.
“Look away Hope,” Emma whispers as she is horrified by what she is seeing. This is impossible. Muffled moans can be heard through the glass. How is she able to see this—why is she seeing this? Before her confused mind can ask any further questions she catches a glimpse of a man’s face on the other side of the greenhouse.
“Dad…?” Hope whispers and then takes off running.
Emma follows behind as they round the greenhouse. The couple in the throes of passion seems completely oblivious to all that is going on just outside the glass walls. As she rounds the corner she catches the sight of a man running away and back towards the house.
“Daddy…!” Hope shouts again as she quickly chases after the man. “Help mom!”
Emma chases Hope as fast as her feet will carry her. As they reach a small clearing close to the house, Hope completely disappears.
“Hope?” Emma asks as she stops running and attempts to catch her breath. “Hope!”
Emma searches the area, but finds no sign of either the little girl or the man. Was that…her father? Was that why he left? Was that the day that he left? Emma was beginning to understand a little more now.
Emma runs back to the greenhouse. Her body covered in sweat she enters
the hot building. Everything is back to how she remembers it from before. A tree branch has grown through the glass, the bed sits beneath it. However, something is different—the room has been trashed. Boxes are strewn about and books litter the ground. Emma quickly recalls the dream from earlier—Alexis had been here. Emma retraces Alexis’s steps and carefully crawls beneath the bed. She retrieves an empty box with a small note inside of it.
To my beloved Sarah Olivia Langford: A gift for when you become that world class chef that I know you will be someday.
You are loved, and always will be,
Brian Metcalfe
“Sarah Olivia Langford…” Emma says aloud. “S…O...L…”
Emma places the note in the small pocket in the backside of her running shorts. She enters the stairwell and begins her trek back to the house. Things were making a bit more sense now—perhaps her father had not disappeared after all. Like a puzzle, things were falling into place. Her father’s unexpected disappearance, the bricked up wall—Ethan had mentioned that his father had worked on the house. Perhaps her father’s body was buried somewhere in the house…that would account for all the hidden broken concrete.
Elizabeth met Emma at the top of the stairs with a chilled bottle of water.
“Did you figure out what you needed to?” Elizabeth asks as she beckons Emma to follow her to the kitchen.
“I think that Brian Metcalfe killed my father,” Emma says as the reality of it all sinks in. “He was there—my father—he saw everything. Brian must have found out and…murdered him.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I need to confront him,” Emma says confidently. For the first time, she is not afraid—although she feels that she should be. However, Hope needed her to do this. She could feel this much.
“You should eat first,” Elizabeth says as she attempts to bring Emma to the kitchen.
“I can’t,” Emma says as she runs up the stairs and enters her mother’s old room and retrieves the metal box of letters.
