The Mark of Fallen Flame

Chapter 3- Emma

The bone in Adrianna's ankle was reset, and her arm, which hadn't needed stitches, was bandaged. After a few hours, she left with her mother, grumbling about crutches and her neon pink cast, shooting Emma a sympathetic look over her shoulder before the double doors slid shut.

Emma's mother drove her home in silence. She slouched down in her seat as if trying to become a part of it. Her mother shot occasional glances toward Emma, and she wondered if the truth was somehow visible on her body.

Emma's mind raced, the night replaying itself in her mind. She could still smell the putrid flesh that had filled her nostrils. The burning, rotten stench of the creatures' skin lingered on her. She had brushed most of it off outside the hospital, but now her skin was crawling, and it was a constant battle to fight the urge to scratch it.

At last the car came to a stop and Emma risked a look next to her. Her mother's intense, expectant stare made her stomach clench. Had she been speaking?

"Sorry, did you say something?" Emma rasped. Her throat was dry and scratchy. She tried to swallow, but her tongue was pasted to the roof of her mouth.

Her mother's expression softened. "I asked what you had left to get tomorrow, for Monday."

Oh, right. School. Emma loved school; she was the type that got giddier during back-to-school shopping than when stores went into Christmas mode. School seemed like such a mundane thing after what had happened earlier that evening. To even think about carrying on with life as if everything were normal—as if she were normal—seemed wrong. Impossible.

"Just some binders and small stuff," Emma replied wearily.

"Okay, well, I'll go with you. We can make a day of it...Get lunch."

Emma attempted a smile, but her lips wouldn't cooperate. "Sounds like fun."

Her mother reached out and tucked a stray curl behind Emma's ear. "Get some sleep," she said. Emma nodded and pushed the car door open. Her limbs were heavier than they had been hour ago. She turned to look back at her mother, wanting to beg her to come in but she didn't want to worry her.

Her mother opened her mouth to say something, then closed it. Then opened it again. "Lock all the doors and windows," she said with a strange strain in her voice. Emma gave a stiff nod, finding it hard to draw a breath. She knows. Emma closed the door and practically sprinted up the paved walkway which was visible in the glow of the street lamps and the solar-lights that lined the path.

The car idled in the street while Emma grabbed the hide-a-key from under a large stone by the weed-filled flower bed near the front porch and opened the door. She cast a final look toward her mother as the car began to pull away.

Once inside, she bolted the door and checked every window to be sure they were latched. She flicked on every light in the house as she went, ending with her bedroom upstairs. She still felt spooked and couldn't shake the heavy feeling of eyes watching her. The clock on her side table said it was just after eleven. Both mentally and physically exhausted, she dropped like a stone into the chair at her desk and opened her laptop. Sleep would have to wait. She needed answers.

Her fingers hovered over the keys as she stared at the empty search bar. What was she even looking for? She typed: life-suction powers. She gave a dry laugh at the results. Superheroes, fan-fiction, comics. There was nothing about real life. Not even from the wacky conspiracy theory nut-jobs. In her frustration, she typed: four-armed death stick creatures. Her head dropped into her hands as she gave a long sigh. The images didn't even come close to matching what she had seen.