Corren's Fight

Chapter Thirteen - Condolence

We went into the house where I loaned Emily a towel to dry off. I watched her squeeze the water out of her hair with the towel. There were an infinite amount of things I could say to her while she fixed her hair in the bathroom mirror, but none of those things seemed to fit.

"What?" She asked suddenly. Her eyes had flickered to me.

"What?"

"You're staring at me. Is there something on my face?"

I smiled, leaning against the door frame. "No." Then I changed my mind. "Emily... There's was moment- when I was drowning... I was running out of air and my insides burned... I regretted it. It was going to be over just like I wanted, and I thoroughly believed no one was going to be there. I was going to die alone... No one would ever know what happened, and I'd be forgotten."

Emily's expression was somewhere between shock and uncertainty; she nodded.

I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but really, what are you supposed to say when someone thanks you for stopping them from making the worst mistake of their life? It was situation neither of us had ever had to respond to.

"For the record," She said after a pause. "You wouldn't have been forgotten. Not by me."

I smiled wide. "Sweet Heart, remember what I said about CPR?"

She eyed me suspiciously.

"You're still free to practice anytime."

Emily smirked back at me. "I already did. The other night, remember?"

All the humor in me vanished at the realization. She did give me CPR...

Emily patted my chest as she walked by. "Don't let it get to you. It was the equivalent of kissing a dead fish."

In all honest I had almost been a dead fish.

I  grinned. "I can change that if you give me another chance."

"Keep dreaming, Corren."

"Oh, I will."

Emily laughed and glanced down at her towel. She handed it to me. "I should probably get going."

I felt a pang of disappointment. "Yeah, uh, sure."

"It was nice being here though... Last night was wonderful." She added quietly.

I gave her an easy-going smile. "Yeah, it was something."

"Something." She murmured.

I walked her out onto the porch and watched her leave. I didn't go back inside until her car disappeared into the dirt road, leaving a trail of dust behind it. 

The rest of the weekend had been as dull as expected. To my surprise Jem did not ask questions. I believed he was briefly content by his "watering the lawn" stunt. While Jem was occupied with restaurant duties I had the house to myself on Sunday. With a quiet environment it left me time to think; too much time. The call of the blade whispered to me while I sat on my bed reading. I began fidgeting as nausea set in. The memory of Scott's story displayed on a screen in every class room filled my mind. I felt the stares on my back all over again. It wasn't the stares from the video anymore; it was the stares I got after Scott died. Some were pitiful, some were saddened, others were judgmental- like they were waiting for me to snap like him.

I threw my book down and quickly left the room. I was shaking like I had when I experienced the panic attack at school. I fought for control. Deciding fresh air was my best bet, I stepped outside onto Jem's back porch. I leaned over the russet, wooden guard rail that was placed along the perimeter of the porch. The cool air blew at the sweat that had collected on my neck and forehead. I wiped it away and sighed. What the hell was going to do? I ran my hand along the smooth wood.