"When I recall a memory, I'm always looking at myself-not being me, but looking at me. It's that way in dreams too. I'm not myself but a bystander. Like I'm someone else besides the person I actually am in real life time. Is that hard to understand?"
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She walks home, well more of running swiftly down hill towards the motel that has become her home over the past few months. There are tears falling down her soft, olive face, and she looks furious. Her phone is in her right hand-only because her left hand is damaged at the moment because of her, now dead, dog biting it earlier today. Headphones are in her ears, connecting the sound from her phone to her ears by simple pieces of wires and speakers.
Her name is Emily Hart, she seventeen with a full scholarship for writing at Harvard, she's an only child, and has never been in love with anyone. She has only one friend-Oscar Winceler- whom at the moment is too busy knocking up his girlfriend to help his best friend with her combination attack. She doesn't know what to call it because it's a mixture of anxiety, depression, panic and a few other simple other emotions-so the name sticks as combo attack.
In a matter of minutes she reaches the front door, where she knocks loudly-not caring at the moment about the time it is or who may or may not be asleep. Her cousin, twenty year old Jeremy Dubel, opens the door looking tired but at the same time ticked off at the late night knocker-he, at the moment, doesn't care who's at the door, all he cares about is the sleep he's missing.
"Why are you out so late nowadays?" Jeremy looks down at Emily, for she is only five feet and four inches tall.
"No reason," Emily mumbles as she pushed past Jeremy into her home. She heads towards her room which is the second door on the right, right next to the bathroom. She slams the door behind her-still not caring about others around her-and sits down at her desk writing rapidly.
She looks down at the words. Folds it up in three folds horizontally and places the letter inside the envelope. She writes another letter. Then another. Five more letters then she stops to cry softly.
She dries her tears, shaking them off or maybe it was to silence the voices inside. She looks at the things she owns, grabbing only a few items that would be easy to carry; a pocket knife for protection, two sets of clothes (two tees, jeans and shorts), and her phone with headphones. She had blocked all her contacts earlier that day and deleted most of them.
She opened her window slowly and quietly, if she went any faster the window would create an high pitched squeak and no doubt would wake everyone up. She threw her things outside and checked around her room once more. She looked at her old photos, the ones with her once happy family. She missed that family more than anything.
She turned the lights off and walked to the window, but before she jumped she glanced around her and at the ground she was planning on landing on. She whispered a goodbye to her 'home' and jumped.
She landed, thankfully, on her feet. She then grabbed her things and ran.
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"So why are you here? And what does recalling a memory have to do with anything?"
"You wouldn't understand but I'm a runaway. I'm trying to get away from my past and run towards my future. I don't belong there, I belong here."
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She on the side of the street, in a dark alleyway, her stomach aching with pain from hunger. She can hardly stand let alone walk without staggering.
It starts to rain and she shivers from the rough, icy touch of the rain. The wind rages through her already skewed hair. There's a gash on her left cheek from where she scraped against the bricks too hard to escape the sketchy looking man.
Headlights flash by in the freezing night. The door opens the slams and loud voices are heard, then high heels run off in a different direction of the yelling man. He screams and slams the door shut, harder than necessary. His sigh is heard all the way into the alley, where Emily was hidden. He mutters under his breath and opens the car door to get in again. The car starts and drives away, leaving Emily alone once more.
Pain sears through her and she doubles over, moaning loudly. She hears brakes screech to a stop as the man calls out to her. Her vision is blurred and objects begin darkening, the pain making her scream loudly. Footsteps run into the alley and a figure stands in front of her, before her vision goes completely black.
He picks her up and carries her to his car to take her to his house, for the hospital was an hour away and this mysterious girl needed help fast.
-----
"I don't understand."
"There's no need to. There's only the need to not know and to not understand. I've learned what understanding does to people. I've been on the receiving end of it. Please, just let me go Erin."
"Emily, I...I can't."
-----
She wakes up on a bed in a strangers house. Emily is terribly frightened and worried as to who has brought her to this place. Just then the door opens, revealing a man, or a boy, she couldn't tell in the dim lighting.
"What do you want from me?"
He walked over to her and smiled down at her.
"I want you to be better and from the looks of things, you are."
She didn't know what he meant until her memory cane flashing back, causing her head to began aching. She winced slightly in pain but tried to cover it up with a fake smile. The man (or boy) notice this and sat on the edge of the bed, worry etching his face.
"Are you ok?"
Emily considered saying the truth or not, but instead she spoke what she had been thinking for years.
"When I recall a memory, I'm always looking at myself-not being me, but looking at me. It's that way in dreams too. I'm not myself but a bystander. Like I'm someone else besides the person I actually am in real life time. Is that hard to understand?"
The man smiled and asked for her name.
"I'm Emily."
"I'm Eric."
And that's where their conversation began that night. The two becoming friends and soon something more. But as a bystander, that's not my story to share. Only theirs.
Thend
