The Butterfly Effect

Chapter Two - Plead the Fifth

In the weekend that followed Emily spent most of it in bed. There was an infection of guilt that plagued her, even though she knew it shouldn't be there. She never knew Russell, she had no right to be sad, but she couldn't save him either and that was what continued to haunt her.

The bedroom door flew open, allowing the cringe-worthy light of the morning to flood in. "Get up. I have swim practice."

Emily groaned and pulled the blankets over her face. "Megan it's seven. Can't I stay home?"

"You know I'm not allowed to leave you home alone. Get dressed before I drag you out of here clothed, or not!" Fading footsteps signaled her departure.

Emily rolled from the bed and closed her door. She shimmied from her PJs and threw on a pair of jeans and t-shirt. On her way out, Emily brought her own swimsuit in a drawstring bag. She'd never be caught dead swimming where the other girls could judge her, but sometimes when they were done with the pool and talking while everyone got picked up, Emily would take a turn with the pool.

She claimed her usual spot at the metal bleachers that were set on either side of the pool. Emily pulled a book from her bag she has recently become addicted to. She had a bit of an affinity for reading. It whisked her to a different world, one where her problems didn't exist. Reading allowed for worlds where she could become someone else entirely. The words locked Emily in a trace of fantasy so deep she hadn't heard the splashing of the swim team cease.

By the time Emily pried herself from the book the girls from the swim team were leaving the locker rooms fully dressed. Emily slipped her book in the bag and stood. She reached the entrance of the locker rooms, about to push open the door when it came forth instead. Emily jumped back, nearly bumping into the dark haired teenager with a sleazy grin walking out. He winked at Emily as he sauntered from the pool room. Emily scoffed. She tried to place a name to his face. He was familiar, but not enough to remember his name.

Emily locked the door behind her then checked each row of lockers, each bathroom stall, and the swim coach's office connected to the locker rooms before setting her bag down to change. If Emily had been more observant, she might have noticed the laptop on the desk of the coach's office. If she had noticed it, she might have seen the webcam's light flicker on as she stripped.

Emily emerged from the locker rooms holding herself in a self-hug. Although she wore a black one piece, rather conservative considering the things her generation wore, it did nothing to ease her self consciousness. She hated her thighs, they were too chubby in her opinion, and the white raised slashes along the skin didn't help matters.

Despite her self-deprecation Emily could let go for the split second it took to dive into the water. She reveled in the shock of the water temperature and resurfaced grinning. Emily did a few backstrokes that helped to ease her troubles. Water was the cooling agent to her nuclear reactor of a mind. If it weren't for moments like these, Emily would surely be worse off.

Still, she thought of Russell. How strange it was to realize how much a stranger could alter your life. She was grieving silently for him, but more for Russell's future. It felt incredulous to think he'd never graduate, he'd never get married... he would never have children, let alone a daughter to walk down the aisle someday. All of that was gone in a blink of headlights of the car he let kill him. Russell Gonzales would never exist again, and that was the root of Emily's current melancholy.

By the time you turn sixteen, you are approximately six-thousand days old. None of those days could have prepared Emily for what waited Monday morning. There are two types of people: the kind that want to watch the world burn, and those who put the fires out. Emily's school was filled with the pyromaniacs, and they were intent on setting her aflame.