The Coffee Chronicles

Chapter 5

Hey guys I know you probably skip right over this and I dont blame you but I just wanted to say to those who read this story. Thank you, thank you so much this is my first real story and I appreciate any readers I get. If you like what you read leave a comment a vote even message me. I'm always up to talk to awesome people but anyways happy reading!- Tori

  CHAPTER 5

      A loud crash. The sound metal on metal scrapping leaves a ringing in her ears. A wail of anguish comes from her far right, but not knowing who it is from. She needs to search to find out who is crying, but she is unable to move. Laying there, she listens as the crying gets quieter, as if they are running out of the energy it once had. Blood pools around her from the very large gash that runs from armpit to collarbone and across her chest. The seatbelt is wrapped around her broken arm, cutting off circulation on her right arm.

    The crying has stopped, and that fact alone flips her already painful body into panic mode. She needs to help whoever that is. They need her, but she can't move. She is restrained by the sheer brokenness of her body. 'Alone. So alone'. The thought occurs to her when the silence becomes deafening.

    Emily was utterly alone, alone and so very broken.

    Cold sweat drenches the bed sheets as she tries to figure out if it was a dream, or in fact a memory. The need to help still burns in her core as she looks around her small bedroom. Her chest rises and falls quickly with her rapid breaths as she tries to calm herself down. 'Who was crying?' She can't help but ask herself, and not coming up with the answer. At this very moment, a huge hole still resides in her memories, and she doesn't know if, or when, it will be filled.

    Losing her grip on the bed sheet she had been clutching in her small hand, she reaches up to find the chain around her neck with the pendant hanging on it. She feels nothing. It is not there. The immediate thought of 'lost', 'taken', fills her mind as her breathing becomes erratic, once again. She searches the sheets in clear distress trying to find her neckless, the only thing she keeps dear. The only thing that means something to her. The only thing that connects her to the past, her only comfort. 

    She pulls the drawers out of the nightstand. Loudly, they crash to the floor with a bang, and she starts to search them in panic and dread. It makes her movement clumsy as she digs through the top drawer. There it is. Her lifeline in all of its glory. Emily  releases a breath of relief.

    Sitting quietly, she rubs her thumb over the small pendant in her hand. Memories of the dream come rushing back. Knowing it isn't a dream, it was a memory that slipped its way through the wall she somehow built the night of the accident. The doctor said it was normal, that if a person goes through a traumatic event in their life their brain can't handle it. As a way of protecting the persons sanity, the brain locks the memories in a box. Some people get them back and some don't. 

    Staring at the wall, picking through what happened in the dream. The main question is who was crying and why? The second is what happened? She was bloody from the gash. Reaching up, she can feel the raised skin of the scar from that gash. It had not healed well, it left a jagged scar in its wake. Having had enough of  tormenting herself, she decides a shower is needed. She notices it is five thirty and she doesn't have work until seven.

     Freshly showered and ready for work she munches on a piece of jelly toast in hopes to diminish the uneasiness in her stomach.