Being Shot

P h o t o #60 - The Good, The Bad, And The All Too Confusing

P h o t o #60 - The Good, The Bad, And The All Too Confusing

~Elliot's POV~

My teeth almost chattered as we paced past photocopies upon photocopies of the same sterilized, white rooms. Machines buzzed and beeped sporadically, their high pitched hums grating at my nerves. My fingers tightened around Emma's hand as she pulled me along, her once resolute, composed face now dissovled into a frantic flick of the eyes back and forth the moment her mother's gaze was no longer on her.

In all honesty, I was still trying to wrap my head around it, and when I did so I wondered if this was really the time to be putting the pieces of Emma Leighs together.

It was hard to believe that the past 24 hours were even, well, real to begin with. I barely remembered the phone call from my dad that started the whole chain reaction of events in the first place. His irritatingly calm voice even across the phone held an underlying sinister tinge, almost unable to hold its composure as he explained to me my options. A shiver crept up my spine as I remembered hanging up on him without a response and running to the closet of my guest room. Without hesitation I pulled out the few boxes of things I'd salvaged from my home and removed any pictures that were mine. I recalled the paper shredder I'd found in the office a few doors down and snatched it right up, knowing Cooper wouldn't mind if I borrowed it.

If my father had access to the photographs I didn't care about, he definitely could get ahold of the ones that meant something.

With each picture I watched get destroyed, the more bitter I became. Although I knew that some of these were saved on an old USB I had laying around somewhere, I didn't like the fact of shredding them to pieces. Soon I began wripping down the photos hanging from my walls - the ones I didn't ever think to save, nor had my laptop to do so - and started ridding evidence of those as well.

By the time Emma had arrived, probably lured by the increasingly loud noises fueled by my growing anger, I had no optimism left in me. I wanted to smack myself when I thought about how I took it out on her in the beginning, but I really wanted to beat myself senseless when I remembered what transpired afterwards.

The soft warmth of her full lips still lingered on mine, and for a split second I was almost thankful my hand was still in hers since my legs didn't seem to wish to support my full weight at the memory.

I had kissed Emma Leighs, and it had taken everything in me then to stop myself from doing more.

And that's why I found it so astoundingly difficult watching her in this state. That's why I almost seethed in front of the mother that left her almost three years before, abandoning her daughter when she needed her most. That's why the mere quiver in her hand as it gripped onto mine for dear life was enough to squeeze any air in my lungs out into the world.

I was no longer able to force my feelings away for Emma Leighs, and the very moment I finally accepted them they immediately took over my senses.

My eyes traveled from Emma to her mother, who hurriedly moved down the hall before us. It was obvious that the two shared some unspoken grievances, but somehow I found it hard watching the thin woman practically tripping over her own to feet and hunched over, shoulders bunched with pent up nerves. Her honey curls slowly slipped from her low bun as she whipped her head around, scanning room numbers as we passed.