Let Me Save You

Chapter 11

I woke up, with the sun in my eyes. It seemed to be peaking out of the curtains in front of the windows. I felt a hand lazily draped over my waist, and a head laying on mine. I didn't know who it was at first, but then bits and pieces were coming back to me from last night. I had nothing to worry about, now knowing that it was Bret. I didn't want to move because I didn't want him to wake up, but I didn't want to sit there for god knows how long.. Bret could sleep forever if he really wanted to.

I gently pull my head to the side, and quickly turn a little to catch his head before his chin hit his chest. I lied his head back, grabbed his wrist, and pulled it around to the front of me to set on his leg. I finally got up, and looked back at him to see if he was still sleeping. Of course, he was. I head very faint snores coming from him, has his mouth was open slightly. I smiled to myself, but quickly whipped it off. Friends don't sleep like that together.. Do they? I don't think of him like that.. Do I? I shook my head, grabbed my crutches, and continued to the kitchen.

Once I got there, I saw a note laying loosely on a notepad, it looked like someone was in a rush, and the page ripped a little, but still clung on. I ripped it off, and read it.

Emily,

You're father and I left for a while to get our minds off things. Sorry we didn't tell you sooner, but you were sound asleep. We couldn't bring you with us because of your leg. By the way.. How did that happen? You don't really talk to me anymore, and when you do we normally fight. That is also why I left with dad. I don't like fighting with you, and I hope you don't like fighting with me. I'm sorry. We should be back in a week or so. Until then, I want you to go to a friends house maybe? I mean.. Someone other than that boy Bret.. I don't want him here while we're gone.. I saw him sleeping with you, and that didn't sit well with dad at all. Make sure he doesn't come over. Anyway, go to an Uncles, or something. Alright, I have to go now, you're father, and I are going to be late for out flight. I mean it Emily Marie Johnson. No boys. Bye.x

Mom

Flight? Where did they possibly could have gone? Why didn't they tell me sooner? This had to of taking a good while to plan, so why didn't they just tell me? I always thought that they didn't care, and this note just proved my theory. I don't talk to her anymore? I try to, but she shuts me out all the time. How can I talk to you if you don't even listen to me? I'm used to her not saying "I love you" or anything. We never say it to each other anymore. That stopped when I was about twelve years old. Sad right? Whatever. I honestly don't care anymore. I mean, I care for her, she's my mom.. But if she isn't willing to put effort into it, then I won't either. About my dad...yeah, he's the same way. When I was younger, he was my super hero. He was always someone that I could talk to, and I used to help him in the garage, and with yard work.. But now he doesn't care, just like mom.

"What are you doing up on Sunday?" I jumped a little, and quickly put the note behind my back. "W-what do you mean? I don't sleep like you, Bret. I actually enjoy my weekend." I chuckled a little, he sleeps like a bear. "Hey! I do enjoy my weekends! I get up too early everyday, five times a week, I think sleeping on the weekends is the best thin-what are you hiding?" My breath caught in my throat, making me cough nervously.

"N-nothing.. I just have some back pain, this cast is a bit heavy for me to lug around."

"You can't lie for shit, pass it over." Wow. Am I really that bad at lying?

"Yes you are, now hand it over." ...Well damn.

I brought the little rectangular yellow paper from behind my back. "There." I spoke a little quieter than intended.

He gave me a funny look, and took the note. He skimmed through it, and just looked at me.

"Where did they go?" He asked. "Good question." I spoke coldly.

"Do they always do that?" "Do what? Go on trips, and not tell me? No.. Not that I know of." 

"No.. I mean no proper goodbye, or an "I love you" nothing?"

"Bret.. We haven't said "I love you" to each other since I was twelve. It's sad, but honestly it's no big deal. I knew they didn't care about me, and this is just extra proof. What did she mean "to get our mind off of things"? I quoted with my fingers, "I guess I'm too much to handle even though I don't do anything. Maybe I'm the problem. Maybe that's why they fight so much. I'm a waste of space."

By now, I'm choking back tears, even though it's almost impossible. I can feel them brimming around my eyes.

"Come on Em.. Don't say that-" "You just read the fucking note!" I interrupted. "When do you ever see my parents get me anything for school, huh? Or when have you ever seen them pay the slightest attention to me? That's right, you don't! They don't care! I always thought that they didn't care, and I'm right. Don't you dare tell me other wise."

I took deep breaths to keep myself from saying anything more.

"Fine. I won't say anything about it. I take it you want me to leave now.. Because of the note?" "No! Not at all. Do you think after that I'm going to listen to them? Don't worry, they probably won't be back for two weeks anyway."

"Well, lets get something to eat, and then we can do whatever you want." He crumbled up the note, and threw it away. He gave me a beautiful smile, and leaned on the kitchen counter.

"No thanks... I'm not hungry. I think I'm just going to go, and shower. You know.. Just one of my lazy days." I tried to sound as convincing as possible. Must not eat. Empty is pretty. Empty is strong.

"Are you feeling alright?" He looked worried, and took a few steps forward. "Yeah.. I'm fine, just not hungry that's all." I gave him the best smile I could, and hopped past him. Stupid crutches. These things are getting old, really quick.

"Emily!" He called from the kitchen right when I was at the stairs. "What?" I called back. He jogged in, holding a cup of orange juice. "Can I help you upstairs?" I felt blood rush to my face, as my cheeks stung. "Y-yeah.. I mean if you really want to.." He put down his glass, and came to where I was standing. "Give me your crutches." I gave him a confused look, but passed them over. Automatically he tossed them onto the couch. "What are you doing I need tho-Bret!" He lifted me off the ground, bridle style, and looked me in the eyes. "What?" He smirked at me, cheekily. "Put me down, I'm too heavy.. I still have one good foot. All you had to do was hold my one hand the whole way up, and then you could have came back down. That's what." "Stop. You are a perfect weight, and you don't need to change. I picked you up with ease, now calm down. I got ya."

He carried me upstairs, and set me down in the hallway. "How are you not panting by now?" I asked in all seriousness. Honestly, I don't see myself the way he sees me, or anyone else for that matter. "Stop." He stated, and walked back downstairs. Well, fine. I don't want him to pity me or anything, I just don't know what I want him to think.