✄Jazzy's P.O.V✄
I watched as Emily walked around and looked at all my instruments. Dude now sat quietly down on a step on the stairs, well, more like a few steps, he's a huge dog.
I decided to sit down behind my red electric keyboard/piano, and tuned it up. I let my hands take control and they swayed against the keyboard. They played "Fix You" by Coldplay. I played this for her. For Emily.
I could feel her eyes on me. I kept playing from my heart and my hands kept forcing down the keys with a swing. Soon I began to sing it. I let my voice flow out and into the air to fill her ears.
Might sound cheesy but I sang it from my heart. I want to help Emily. I want her to get better. I might have just met her but I want to get her out of the pit she is falling down. It hurts to know that she doesn't eat, talk, socialize, or even live in a proper house. I want to fix her.
As I ended the song and looked up at her, she was completely frozen. The water lined her eyes though but didn't fall. Suddenly, Emily shook her head and fell to the floor, bursting into tears. Oops?
I got up and leaned down next to her, wrapping my arms around her body and pulled her onto my lap.
"Shhhh." I rested my chin on her head and her sobs because to quiet. I rocked her slowly back and forth, back and forth until she was silent and her breathing slowed. I carefully picked her up and carried her to her room.
I laid her down on the bed quietly and left the room, closing the door.
Emily is beautiful. I don't know her story but I don't need to read it. I just want to help her. I want her to stay with the world and stay with me now. Emily needs to try a bit harder if she isn't enough. I want to help fix her. I want to help her feel better. I really, really do.
I will make sure I will save her. I promise, solemnly swear, she will live through it. Live through it with me. She is a soldier carrying on with a battle wound and I am going to heal it.
That beautiful girl I see under that hood, will continue to be a beautiful girl but without the hood.
I was going to help her, I just needed to figure out how.
YOU ARE READING
Picking Daisies (Book #1, Emily's story)
Non-FictionWhy I wasn't important. Why I wasn't worth it. Why I was invisible. Why I gave up. Why I hate myself. Why I am alone. Why I got rope. Why I got a chair.