Window

24.

Days seemed to blur together, weeks inseparable. All of them looked the same, grey and dreary with a harsh bite to the air. Time dragged on slowly, each second a constant reminder of the loss. Thoughts had all the time they wanted to stomp within her mind, tearing her heart apart piece by piece until she was left with a bottomless despair that sucked the energy from her. 

Teachers began to notice a lack of participation, a numb, absent expression written on her face. Her mother and father began to ask gentle questions, but every time they brought up the topic Emma disappeared into her room for hours. Lanny and Zack watched a cloud of darkness hang in the air above her. She wouldn't even play monopoly with them, not even once. 

Her hobbies didn't interest her, all of them managing to reroot her thoughts to him. Eating was difficult, because the sick feeling that constantly resided inside her repelled even the thought of a meal. So when she wasn't in school, she was sleeping or at the gym.

Charlotte refused to let her stop exercising, and Emma eventually gave in. It didn't mean it was the same though. Emma was different, it wasn't hard to see. She lacked the spark of joy in her eyes, or the enthusiasm that usually came. Instead she would run until Charlotte thought she would pass out, lifting weights too heavy in an effort to over exert herself. Charlotte began to wonder if Emma was punishing herself; punishing herself for something she couldn't control. 

Emma had noticed the change too, but she didn't want to think about. She just knew that Dean was gone. Dean had been taken away from her and thrown into a dangerous place. Emma didn't even know if she would ever see him again, and the thought made her want to vomit. 

There was nothing she could do, either. There was no way to contact him, or make sure he was okay. There was nothing she could do, but wait. Wait for him to find a way to contact her, or wait for some piece of information to be dropped on her doorstep. 

But after a month, it became apparent that neither of those things were likely to happen. And the hope that had once flickered in her heart was dying out. There was nothing left to fuel that flame, all false senses of hope proven wrong. 

Early morning light filtered in through the white shades, giving the room an orange glow. The house was quiet, Lanny's morning routine muted by the thick walls that separated them. He'd assumed his sister was sleeping, because that was just about all she did these days. 

But Emma was awake, her eyes focused on the calendar that hung in front of her. A large picture of green grass filled with bright, yellow tulips lay on the wall. "April" Emma muttered, unable to believe how much time had passed without him there. 

She tugged at his flannel that hung on her shoulders, praying that his smell could infuse the fabric for just a little bit longer. It was the only thing she had left, the only thing that told her he was real; told her he wasn't just a figment of her imagination. Dean was real, and he was in trouble. 

Her eyes quickly returned to the calendar, fluttering down to the fourth where months ago she had written 'Dean's B-Day!'

Emma's mind began to work, letting that last bit of hope help to mold a plan. Dean was going to be eighteen, which meant that he could take himself out of the military. He could live on his own, as a legal adult and escape his father. He'd need help, but Emma would assist. Hell, her parents would probably let him live there if it meant escaping the abuse. 

But there was no way to tell him this, no way to convey her offer. She needed to see him, and see him soon. Her eyes drifted down to the sixteenth, her head tilting to the side. "Easter" she observed, pursing her lips as thoughts began to dance within her mind. 

Moving to the computer, Emma lifted the screen before opening her browser. As soon as the blinking cursor appeared in the search bar, Emma's fingers flew across the keyboard. Hitting enter, thousands of results popped up. Her brown eyes searched the screen, the blue light reflecting in her irises.