The Best is Yet to Come

Four: Emma

I don't think I have ever screamed so loudly in my life.

My voice breaks mid-scream, unable to hold the pitch for too long, resulting in a hoarse roar that emits from my throat like something out of a horror film.

The scream is horrible, piercing painfully through my own ears. If it wasn't for the burning agony in my throat, I would never have realized the noise had come from me.

I squint in pain from the bright lights coming from ahead and raise my arms in front of my face to shield my eyes from the blinding whiteness. I can't see a thing.

I hear a horrific crunching noise and an agonizing pain shoots through my entire body, like I was being crushed between two brick walls. Then after that, deafening silence.

A loud thump shakes me awake and I spring up in bed. My brown hair is disheveled; now in knots around my head and there's a bit of drool on my chin. My eyes squint in sensitivity from the sunshine coming in through the window and I wipe my face in exhaustion. Another night of sleep plagued by nightmares.

What time is it? I glance at my phone resting next to my bed.

1:00pm.

Yikes. That's bad, even for me. Memories of my nightmare have already been expertly pushed out of my thoughts. I've been getting much better at that.

I force myself out of bed and nearly trip over Oscar on my way to the bathroom. In revenge, he meows at me while I'm on the toilet until I finally make my way over to the kitchen area to feed him.

My eyes make contact with the calendar hanging by the door. I missed another appointment with Dr.Greene. He's not going to be happy about this. I give it one more missed appointment before the office calls me, concerned. Honestly, I'm surprised I haven't received a phone call yet. They must not care as much as they say they do.

Remembering I had signed up for a workshop held at Glory's at four, I walk to the bathroom and turn the shower faucet up to the highest setting, eager to feel the scalding water against my skin. Call me crazy but I need to be pink when I get out of a shower or I don't feel clean enough.

As I get into my morning routine my thoughts drift to a certain pair of brown eyes. I've been awake for precisely eleven minutes and I'm already thinking about that guy from the book store. I wonder if he planned on going into the store again. He seemed pretty flustered when I tried to take his payment. I wonder if he was nervous? Buy why would he be nervous? What did he want? I take a few deep breaths, trying to soothe the panic from my thoughts.

I wish I could remember more about what he looked like but as hard as I try to manifest a visual in my mind, all I can picture are his dark eyes. Would that even enough for me to be able to recognize him with?

While apprehensive about my stranger, I'm also intrigued. I'm surprised to admit that I want to see him again but it doesn't matter. I don't know who he is or anything about him. I'll probably never even see him again.

With a stubborn finality, I choose to put all thoughts of mystery man behind me. There was no point dwelling over a man I could never have anyway. I twist the shower off and grab the fluffy towel hanging by the curtain. I quickly blow dry my hair and swipe on some mascara. After pulling on my favorite jeans and blue t-shirt, I grab my house keys, my bag and the book off my bedside table and exit the front door, swinging it shut behind me. I turn right out of the apartment and head to the park to read.

Stepping outside, the warm sunlight feels heavenly on my skin. I grab the sunglasses resting on the top of my head, put them on and start walking, trying to focus on something positive for a change. My bag thumps against my thigh as I walk, the steady beats a welcome comfort. I could practically feel the notebook of stories tucked inside waiting to be revealed at the writers workshop tonight.