Purple

Chapter 5

It isn't until I hear the sirens that I snap back into reality. But these sirens weren't from my alarm clock this time. They were real. And as much as I'd like it not to be true, everything was real.

As the sirens came closer, I look down at the girl again. Sherri is sitting next to her, holding her hand tightly. Her eyes are closed tightly. I wonder if she's praying, or just simply to afraid to open her eyes. As I study the girl, I realize that the only time if ever seen here was when I used to go to church years ago. She looks much older now, but her distinct facial features are still the same.

I look up as two police cars, a fire truck, and an ambulance pulls up from the street opposite from us. The one the little girl had been happily riding down on her pink bike with streamers on the handle bars. I shudder. I don't want to think about it. Except it's kind of hard not to with the injured girl feet away from me.

I look away from the girl as the three police men and one police woman get out of their cars. There are two police in each car. They walk over to us. They don't look how they normally look around this town. There's no coffee or doughnuts. There's just looks of worry. They try to hid the concerned looks, but it's no use.

The paramedics follow the police, carrying a stretcher. They tell me to move, and not in the most polite way either. They kneel down by the girl and check her pulse.

"She's fading fast" one of them says as calmly as she can.

The female paramedic looks about 20 and has jet black hair, tied back into a neat bun. I think she'd look much prettier if she let her hair lose.

The police put barriers around the scene as people start to crowd around. Parents cover their mouths and hurry their kids away as fast as they can. There are a few yells and scream as the paramedics strap the girl onto the stretcher and load her into the ambulance. I watch as they close the door of the ambulance.

I reach up to touch my cheeks in terror and pull my hand away wet. It's only then that I realize I've been crying. I've been crying this whole time. This surprises me, because I very rarely cry. I step back and sit on the curb, not saying anything. I watch as the ambulance drives off, it's sirens blaring.

More police cars arrive and finish blocking off the scene. The girl's bike sill lies destroyed on the road, pools of blood all around it. I suddenly feel the need to puke. I get up and run to the pool trashcan, throwing up my cinnamon bun I had for breakfast.

I look up from the trashcan and wipe my mouth with my hand, scrunching up my nose at the taste in my mouth. Jeremy is talking to the police. Somehow he is calm. I don't know how he does it. And with that, I look away from the scene. I don't want to see the blood, or the police, or the remains of a nine year-olds bike anymore.

I turn my back on the scene and run into the parking lot of the pool. I grab my bike and get on it. Then I peddle. I peddle and I peddle and I don't stop, not even knowing where I'm going.

At some point, I pass the cow farm, then pass my house. I don't want to go home. The first thing I hear will be my parents asking me what happened. But I don't want to think about it.

When I finally stop peddling, I'm at the edge of the woods about half a mile away from my house. I dismount off my bike and let it fall over onto its side, the wheels still spinning around in circles.

I sprint into the woods, following the path I used to use as a little kid when Jer and I used to play Spiderwick Chronicles out here.

Minutes later I arrive at the clearing in the middle of the woods. The trees are all around the almost perfectly circle clearing. I lower myself down to the ground and lay on my back, looking up at the sky above me.

I watch the clouds form and reform, taking different shoes each time. I can see the tops of trees around me, growing up towards the sky. I close my eyes, taking in deep breaths of the country air. And with that, I see no more.