Me & Her

Me

No.

The world evaporates, floating as ashes before me.

I know Emma is dead, cold even before the bullet settles, but I run to her anyway, desperate to try to stop the bleeding. She tumbles, almost gracefully onto the floor, before I can catch her. I can't catch her. I can't save her.

I let her fall.

Her black hair fans out behind her, while her clothes are streaked in red. Her hands are already growing cold and pale, but her eyes are closed. Peaceful, despite the chaos which has ravaged her body. I wonder what she thought. In her last moments. What she thought.

Alyssa is screaming, screaming so loudly I cannot drown her out with my own cries.

Noah jumps toward us, but a gunman holds him back. Karen Hill doesn't even have the decency to look shocked. I can see it in her face. My friend – my best friend – is collateral damage. My fault. That I know. Mine. All mine. I couldn't save her. I couldn't even try.

My breath comes in ragged pants, but my words fail to form. No words, nothing. Just a silent scream echoing alongside Alyssa's heart-wrenching wails. Emma. Not Emma. It was supposed to be me. Let it end with me. Please. I'll give my brain, my heart, my bones, every pore of skin, to ensure she lives. Let it end with me. Except it doesn't end with me. It ends with a bullet and her blood on the carpet. Red stain. Wide and gaping. A jaw with no teeth, its tongue cut out.

My heart has been torn from my body and now I'm clutching its reddened remains. Crying, but the tears won't fall. Screaming but I'm mute. Iron sits in my stomach, dragging me slowly, slowly towards the carpet fibres. Eventually, they begin to collect my tears.

Emma, Emma. Emma, where are you? You're supposed to be here. We're like sisters, I tell the lifeless girl and the raging bullet wound. You're supposed to laughing alongside me as we choose the perfect outfits for going on the run. I promised to protect you. And haven't I done just a fabulous job of that? Oh, Emma.

Gritting my teeth, I claw at the floor beneath us, nails bending, splitting. This is my fault. Our fault. We promised to protect her, we promised. But here we are. Back where we started: covered in blood which isn't our own, letting down the people who have made the mistake of caring about us.

Through the tears and the ache in my chest, I risk a glance at Noah. His face is crimson; he's choking on snot and tears and anger. His neck contorts, veins pulsing out over his forehead. For a brief moment, he meets my gaze. Only emptiness lies in his eyes. Nothing for me, nothing against me. I'd rather have his hatred than his indifference. I suppose I'm not worthy of his hatred. I don't deserve anything from him, just like I never deserved to have Emma as a friend. I roll back to sit on my heels. Were we friends? Or did she just feel sorry for me? Did she make the mistake of thinking I was anything more than an anomaly?

A scream blasts the walls and it takes a moment to realise that the sound is coming from me. Me. My lungs, my pain. Splattering onto the walls, rising above the cocking of the guns, the triggers. As my bones, my muscles, my memories implode into tears. Emma, Emma. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please, Emma. Come back. We could have been sisters, you and me. Sisters. Emma. Emma, I'm sorry. Emma, please. It wasn't supposed to turn out like this. No one was supposed to get hurt.

You weren't supposed to... You weren't supposed to leave me, not like this.

Please, I can't do this. I can't do this anymore.

Raising my hand to my face, I cover my raw eyes. Close them to blink back enough tears to see straight.

The room remains the same: the plain walls, pale windows. Only the flecks of mauve on the carpet, the shadow of the girl who wanted to be a world leader, mars the gloom. One vibrant smile doused forever. Because of me. Because of us. Because we failed.

Standing in front of us, Light's hands are shaking. He doesn't look at me. Doesn't meet my eyes as try to catch his. Doesn't turn around to linger on Emma's crumpled body. Instead, he stands with his hands splayed, as if he can absorb the gunfire. It isn't until he's half-snarling that I realise what is about to happen.

Hurriedly, I lunge forward, bloodied hands slipping on his wrist. Light doesn't turn, at least not for a moment. Then the blackness in his hair recedes and he's himself again. He is my Light, but when he meets my tears his eyes are ashen shells.

"No," I whisper. I'm not sure whether I'm saying it to him or the echo of Emma. Emma, jumping in front of me. Deciding my life was worth something. Well, it's worth nothing now. It's worth nothing because she's not here. Do you hear that? My best friend is dead, and I am alive, and I have nothing! I have nothing.

Hanging my head, I lick the salt from my lips. Blurred vision, with the pain in my chest blossoming like an orchard. I can hardly breathe. Hardly think until I focus on Emma's hollow stare. And I know. I know what I have to do. I know and while it used to scare me, it's a blessing now. A haven. A sanctuary. I have to lose control. To sacrifice the life that I craved so selfishly. Oh, Alyssa. Please. Please take all this away.

'You don't know what you're saying,' comes the voice of my alter. The voice of reason, the one I ignored because I was too blind. Too blind to notice that my life was a lie. A lie which proved fatal.

'I do. I really do. This is what you wanted, isn't it? To have a life? Here, take it!' I scream at her inside my head. Alyssa seems to be crying too, weeping alongside my grief, as if we are passing trams. Please. I beg her. Over and over and over again. Tell her that I know I'm a coward and I deserve to disappear. That she is stronger than me – she always has been. She needs to take my place.

Have control, I tell her. Have it. Take my body. Take my life – I don't want it anymore. I don't want my mind. I don't want it anymore. So, take it.

Take it all. Take it. Take it!

Take it.

Take my shattered skin, my useless lungs which have done nothing except scream.

Take all of me.

Take my mind.

Take my body.

Take it.

A pause, and a crack in my skull.

An answer. No.

More than that.

A yes.