Blood and leaves. Thats how it started. Emerson Martin lying in a pile of dead leaves with her bird like arm cracked in half.
Salty tears run down her face burning the cuts along her red puffy cheeks. There is a distant call from the left. A set of foot steps rush through the now scatters leaves.
"Little girl? Little girl? Are you okay?"
Emerson says nothing, just lifts the arm that hurts. At least she attempts to, but the pain that she feels shoots through her small figure is almost enough to make her scream.
"Stop! Dont move okay!"
The foot steps rush off faster and then the voice shouts far off in a strange tounge. As she lay there she feels a shadow grow over her. A boy looks at her with wet eyes. He had pushed her off the tree house by accident. He shakes violently from his crying. Thats when a voice much higher then the other calls out to whom she assumes is the boy.
It says William.
William Chang.
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Shouts from every direction fill Emersons now bloodied ears. Her fist balled as tight as a cobra right to strike. Because thats what she was. A venomous, untamed, predator ready to take the kill. Her eyes dart over the enlarging crowd of small fourth graders. They all have a vicious look in their eyes as they, most likely, witness their first fist fight.
"Emerson!" Is all she hears before a sharp pain is forced through her stomach. Jack Mayer just punched her . Then he did it twice more to her face knocking her out. When she woke up she stared up at the face of a boy with wet eyes and a bloody rag to her cheek.
William.
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The summer heat only makes it harder for him to carefully stitch her back together. Sweat pouring down into the open wounds along her arm and cheek causing her blood to come out watery and pinkish. Tiny drops connect and collide all branching out creating small rivers and canals along her fair skin. Emersons hands clench and shake every time the needles point digs below her skin. It fascinates the boy on how a needle no bigger then a string can phase someone who intentionally throws their body into blunt trauma every day for the hell of it.
Once the cuts that mimicked canyons splitting into her body were closed and connected she let out a soft sigh and smiled at him.
"Thanks"
Will smiled back.
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19. The day she left she was 19. It was at dawn and her unknowing mothers lay peacefully in bed awaiting the alarm to go off where then they will start their normal Sunday routine. Run. Wake up Emerson. Breakfast. Errands. Lunch. Clean. Relax. Dinner. Watch a movie. Sleep.
But their simple schedule was overthrown by a new one; Run. Cant find Emerson. Worry. Call her. No answer. Worry. Call friends of Emerson. Crying. No one knows. Frantically search for her. Crying. Cant eat all day. Crying. Crying. Crying. Crying.......
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22. Will graduates early from medical school at 22. His parents throw him a party and invite everyone in the neighborhood. Emersons parents show up. Its been 3 years. Will stopped crying only last month. They still havent stopped. 22. Everyone is so happy, but sad to see him go. He has to go. He cant be here. He cant look at things that remind him. He only stopped crying two hours ago.
"Em"
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Desert sand and hot air. Its all she sees and feels. Sunburns are a thing of the past. Her skin far to damaged to ever go back. The rough fabric scratches her sweat covered body as she walks around the small village. A gun is poking her lower back. She adjusts the straps to hoist it higher. Her boots caked in mud and blood blister her ankle. She keeps moving. She hasnt cried. But she does hurt.
"Will"
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Its busy. Always busy. He cant decide if he loves or hates what he does. He loves helping people. He hates that these people arent Emerson. He looks at every wound to see if he can find her. Maybe she looks different. Maybe she will be drug in here after a bar fight and he will have to patch up her hand once more. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.
23. William leaves his job at 23 to help people who get hurt like her. That fight like her.
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1 year. Shes been here for 1 year and she doesn't want to leave. She has something to fight for. A reason to swing. New scars that she honors with pride.
She looks at the small team she bow calls family and friends. They all look the same but different. They all look the same. They all look very dead. She feels different. They look different. She cant see. She cant move. She doesn't want to leave.
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The boy hears shouts. He hears tires and frantic orders.
"MEDIC. MEDIC."
His feet pick up speed and he glides over the dark sand of the tents. Soon he has reached a table that the others have cleared off to lay the body of a burnt girl. Shallow breaths are taken. Like a person drowning who is still attempting to not swallow the water that has already seeped its way into the lungs.
He has removed whats left of the uniform on the burnt girl. He sees that most of her flesh is consumed. He sees the part that isnt. He sees the scar he stitched at the age of 16 on the side of her cheek.
"Will"
"em..."
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Blood and sand. Thats how it ends. Emerson Martin staring at the nothingness of death and William chang staring back down into her empty soul with wet eyes.
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The End
