Puppet Boy contest one-shot

Puppet Boy one- shot

Dedicated to z0mbies because your stories are the best!! Please take note that I am Dutch and not a native English- speaker, so the story may contain grammar errors. Thank you!
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Andrew

Andrew and Emily walked through a forest, holding hands. The trees were filled with birds of all kinds, and Andrew would occasionally spot a squirrel or a hedgehog. It was a peaceful picture. Emily turned her head towards her brother, her brown eyes sparkling. She pulled Andrew in a hug, and her laugh sounded like hundreds of golden bells. Vaguely, Andrew knew that something was wrong, but he didn't want to find out what it was, this moment was just too perfect and he didn't want to ruin it. Then, a thought crossed his mind. They didn't have a forest near their house, and Emily was the same height as he was, which she shouldn't be since she was five years older than that he was.

As soon as he realized that, he noticed that the sound of the birds tweeting was gone. He looked around him and saw that the trees and nature had turned into solid concrete walls. He felt the air go colder, and Emily's arms were losing their grip on his shoulders. Frightened, he looked at his sisters face and almost screamed out loud. Emily's cheeks were sunken in, her skin had become translucent. Her body was extremely thin, it was as if he was looking at a skeleton with skin. Her hair was knotted and messy, but what scared Andrew most was that her eyes were losing their sparkles. She looked at him in horror and whispered: 'Andrew... I'm- I'm sorry...'

Her eyes went dull and she didn't move any more.

Andrew shook his head, unable to process what just happened. 'No-no, NO!' He scanned her body, looking desperately for any sign Emily could still be alive, but his eyes only saw blood, deep wounds he hadn't seem before- at strange places like her hands and feet, who were looking as if they'd been pierced- a tortured body- death...

'No, Emily, stay with me! No, you can't die! Emily! Emily! EMILY, NO!' Andrew's voice was the only sound to be heard in the dark basement.

Andrew jolted awake. He sat up, his breath heavy and sobbing uncontrollably. He kept telling himself while trying to shake the images out of his head: it was just a dream... just a dream... a dream...

After a while, Andrew was able to control his breath, and he dried his eyes. He stood up and walked to the bathroom, for a cup of water. He looked into the mirror, and was not surprised by what he saw. His green eyes were puffy and bloodshot from crying, and his eyelashes were clumped together because of the tears. His dark brown hair was a mess. He scooped some water in his cupped hands and splashed it across his face. He scanned his face in the mirror again, and couldn't help himself but thinking about her.

'Oh, Andrew, what kind of bird lives in your hair again?' Emily would have laughed at the sight of the brown mess. 'Come on,' she'd  have defended herself against his pissed off look, 'it was funny and you know it.' Then she would have bursted out in laughter, hugged him tight and dried his tears. 'Do you want to tell me what you have been crying about?' she'd have asked gently, still with her arms folded around him. He would have shaken his head, but after staring into her warm brown eyes- those eyes he missed so much- he still would have told her. She would have listened patiently, sometimes thoughtlessly tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. Emily would have understood.
She would have shaken her head with a slightly amused look on her face, and Andrew remembered vividly how the right corner of her red lips would curl up. She would have waited for him to have completely calmed down, softly humming a song or reciting a poem. They both loved poems, but Andrew preferred them told by Emily. She had such a soft voice... She would have pressed a kiss on his forehead, hugged him one last time and she'd ruffle playfully through his already messed up hair.

Would, would, would...

They had found her. The police had called, telling him and his parents that they had, after three years, finally found Emily. He remembered the look on his parents faces as his father drove towards the hospital. He remembered how he had cried for hours after seeing his dead sister's face. He also remembered promising himself he would not cry while the police told him and his family how and when they had found her.
I am so sorry. That was what the policemen, the nurses and pretty much everyone he had met that day had said. I'm so sorry. As if he would feel better after hearing that. Andrew remembered that next to Emily, there had been a boy of about her age, surrounded by a herd of people, all eyes red from crying. He had heard his name, but he'd forgotten about it. It seemed of such a tiny importance back then.

He remembered his feelings when the policemen told him and his parents what exactly had happened to Emily. He remembered how his sadness morphed into disgust, and then into anger. Apparently, Emily had been dead for years, but her body was very well-conserved.

Andrew remembered the non-stop sobbing of his mom, and his dad's silent tears. He remembered the police asking them if they wanted to meet the man responsible for his sister's death. The detectives said he was mentally sick, abused as a child and that he had comitted several other murders, twenty- seven in total. They'd said she wasn't the first one to die this way. How was that supposed to make him feel better?
Emily was only one of those twenty- seven, the twenty- seven humans who had lost their lives to that Man. But to Andrew, she was the only one that really mattered.

Andrew stumbled back to his room and plopped down on his bed. His hand automatically reached for the picture on his nightstand. Emily was looking at him, smiling and prettier than ever. He always imagined her soul trapped in that picture, just so he had something he could hold on to, for he knew she was gone. Forever.
He sighed, and touched the photographed hair, as if he could actually feel it if only he missed her hard enough. But he wouldn't, he wouldn't touch that soft silky hair anymore, not now and not ever. His hand, still laying on the photo, trembled and Andrew closed it into a fist. A tear splashed on the glass, right on the spot where Emily's heart should have been.

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Thank you so much for reading!! Hope you liked it!
Xx S.