For Emma

Chapter 13

It's like falling onto a cactus. A quick shock followed by your voice crying out. The pain will settle in but there are still all those tiny needles to pick out one by one. As New Years leaves I find myself treading the dark halls of high school; a thousand meaningless faces passing by in a cloud of bluster that blows by me. Dodging me with wondering eyes, but it feels I'm intangible in this world.

I find my English class and am welcomed bitterly by more meaningless faces. They all turn in a sort of wave and I feel one needle being yanked from my skin. Jeff's face is missing and my heart sinks slightly. I keep my eyes focused on my seat right by the door as I slide into it. 

Mr. Holmes walks to the front of the room and begins by clearing his throat, "class, I have an important assignment for the next few weeks. Now that break is over its time to start a new essay," the class groans except me, "I know, I know, but this assignment will require your full focus and complete writers point of view. I understand that you're tired of writing informational essays that you can't show any opinion in, so I'm giving you all a chance to show who you are as writers.

"I want you to write an essay about life; the way you see life. It could be your life or just life in general. I want you to tell me what life means to you," he passes a yellow paper to everyone, "here's your rubric; now I am giving you the rest of January and half of February to write this, so I'm expecting your best work. I'm giving you the rest of class to brain storm." He finishes, but stop and meets my eyes with a kind of knowing before walking to his desk rubbing his hands together in accomplishment.

The class is filled with voices and the rustling of papers. I sit staring at the blank sheet of note book paper my mind blank, or maybe filled with so much thought none of its processing. My eyes start burning and before I realize it tears are dropping onto my yellow rubric like a summer drizzle. Only I feel nothing like a warm summer rain. My air is cold and the rain is becoming snow then ice. Unwelcomed and unwanted. The voices seem to grow louder as my silent tears continue to fall. Life-- what could that mean to me? Mr. Holmes must hate me because he should know. My sister's dead and my life is going to combust before the world. He should know just how little life means to me.

***

I leisurely walk into the dark room and open the door to be enveloped by the crepuscular abyss. I take a deep breath inhaling all that keeps me from shrinking into myself until I'm the size of an atom. I get my film ready and wait. I have a lot more pictures this time so I find myself a spot on the floor next to a row of cabinets, and hug my knees to my chest to wait. I let tears stream down my cheeks and drip into my palms.

Four months. It's been four months since Sam died and each waking moment without her is longer than the last. Days seem to have 30 hours instead of 24, and weeks having 10 days instead of 7. But the sun never seems to stay up long enough in those lengthened days. All of Sam's stuff is still where she left it. Her makeup, her volley ball, her school books, and her bed is even still unmade with her sheets tossed every which way. I still go home expecting to see her face smiling at me telling me how great volleyball practice was, and yet I am still met with the paralyzing realization that Sam isn't coming home.

The dark room door creaks open then shuts. Slow footsteps are coming towards me; I shrink back into the cabinets behind me feeling like if I try hard enough I'll fall right through them soundlessly.

"I know you're here, Emma." Evan.

No, I screamed inside as his footsteps grew closer. That menacing voice inside my head began calling --I'm here! -- repeatedly through my head. Calling for him? Calling for me to leave hiding? It doesn't matter-I wasn't talking to Evan. I would fight this voice in my head if it's the last thing I do.