|Five| I’m tired of being alone…So hurry up and get here…

Dr. Johansen was sighing sporadically, jotting down notes and glancing at Emma in a nice little pattern. They’d been sitting in silence for a half hour already and Dr. Johansen didn’t like silence. At all. So Emma was quite surprised the doctor was putting up with it.

Of course, at some points in the therapy sessions, there should be allowances made for a person to gather his or her thoughts.

Dr. Johansen cleared her throat. She’d had enough. “I spoke to Elijah before he left yesterday afternoon. He said the two of you had a wonderful chat…he seems to really like you.”

Emma didn’t take the bait. She, instead, just inclined her head slightly. A half nod that looks like she was just falling asleep.

“He says he’s thankful you were here for Lily.” The doctor cocked her head to the side, peering through her glasses at Emma’s placid brown eyes. She continued to throw things out there, hoping Emma would attach to something so she could reel her in. “Elijah seems like a very nice person. I think it’s nice you two are friends. You’ll be good for one another…when Lily is no longer with us.”

One thing about physiatrists: they do not sugar coat things if they can possibly avoid it. Where Emma would have said, ‘you know,’ the good doctor said it straight out. Which is admirable but doesn’t necessarily whip Emma into a verbal frenzy…especially when she’s pissed at being told something so outright.

Finally, the doctor was at her wits end. She knew exactly which button to push to get a response, it just had to be a last resort. “I asked him if you had told him anything about what happened you.”

Emma’s head snapped from the window to the doctor in record time: her once stoic eyes were now flashing with betrayal. “What happened to confidentiality?”

Dr. Johansen smiled mildly. “It flew out the window when the patient refused to cooperate.”

Emma cursed in her head. Damn that doctor and her quick come backs. “You know, there are some days when SOME of us can’t think of witty retorts. That day is TODAY for me. So I’m not going to comment on your last statement.” She folded her arms across her chest, classic battle stance. Emma Burns against the rest of the world.

Dr. Johansen’s stern demeanor crumbled bit by bit until she was left with feeling sorry for the girl in front of her. Emma’s eyes were hard when they finally locked on the doctor’s. “Emma,” her voice was soft and pleading. “I want you to talk to someone. It doesn’t have to be me. If you feel the need to confide in Elijah…I hope that you will…as long as you talk to SOMEONE.”

Emma’s shoulders sagged. “I’ve confided in Lily numerous times.”

“Lily is sixteen years old,” the doctor pointed out. “She cannot offer you the counseling you need.”

“Well, then how can Elijah?” Emma snapped.

“He’s twenty-one, he has, from what I can tell, a good outlook on life. A good knowledge of good and bad. He’s very smart. He knows things, observes. He can help you, Emma…if you let him.”

Emma’s eyes fell to the floor, where they sought out her tennis shoes with mild interest. “I can’t talk to him because I don’t want him to stop liking me.”

“Emma,” replied Dr. Johansen quietly, smiling slightly. “No one is going to stop liking you when you tell them what happened.”

Emma jumped to her feet so fast that a searing pain sprung up her ankles, but she didn’t care. “I killed my fucking mother! Of course people will stop liking me! No one likes murderers for God’s sake!” With that, she spun around and stalked out the door.

Dr. Johansen’s pen dropped from her hand. It clanged on her desk loudly in the quiet room. “Oh dear.”

She had just hit the eye of the storm. Now she knew where the rage, sadness and fear was all coming from. That scarred young woman who had been dropped on their doorstep just two months prior with heavily bandaged wrists had finally opened up. Which is what the doctor had wanted all along, right? Of course. But once you open up the flood gates…there‘s going to be a flood.

Tears were stinging Emma’s eyes but she didn’t make a move to stop them. She grabbed her jacket from her room and practically flew from the building. It was choking her, stifling her, killing her with every breath she took. She had to get away. And fast.

“HEY!”

She didn’t turn around, didn’t bother to wonder who was calling after her. Emma continued to pound down the stone steps at high speed. She didn’t know where she was going; didn’t care. Anywhere but here. Anywhere but here.

The phrase repeated itself in Emma’s mind. It now had new meaning. ‘Anywhere but here. I just need to be anywhere but here.’

“EMMA!” Footsteps sounded behind her. She could clearly made out the thumping as the feet hit hollow ground. Emma didn’t turn around, she just kept walking; she was halfway down the road.

The footsteps quickened, she could hear the swishing of a jacket as the person began to speed up. Emma’s pace accelerated. She didn’t want anyone catching up to her and trying to persuade her to go back to that place. That place where they made you relive the worst memories of your entire life. They brought them up every second of every day, pounding them into your head when all you wanted to do was forget the whole thing. Get a memory blocker, install it in your brain and live in blissful ignorance.

Ignorance is bliss. Emma truly believed that. The problem was that Emma was far from ignorant.

She had finished the walk down the entrance road and was now near the cliffs on which the hospital sat. Her breath was coming out in ragged shards as she inhaled breath after breath of icy cold ocean air. It filled her lungs and felt like thousands of little ice cubes sliding down her throat. Her footing slipped and she felt gravity give way. Falling; falling fast and slow at the same time. Slow motion. She swallowed, choked and sputtered. She felt like she was underwater, her surroundings became blurry. She felt like she was drowning.

Drowning, water flushing through her system. In her lungs, her heart, her stomach. Her hearing became less vivid, she could no longer make out any footsteps behind her.

‘Good,’ she thought. ‘They stopped following me.’

Emma’s eyes were closed, but she didn’t know why. Her arms thrashed frantically, her fingers clawed at the never ending darkness that surrounded her. She was desperate to find something to grab hold of, but there was nothing there.

Nothing but water.

She continued to cough and choke, but all it did was suck more water in. She knew, now, what was going on. She was drowning. Not emotionally either, like she had before. Physically, as in she seemed to have fallen in the ocean and plunged into its icy depths. Emma tried to open her eyes but they stung so badly that she couldn’t pry them open more than a centimeter.

Suddenly, her fingers brushed a piece of cloth and she grabbed at it, tugging on it with all her might. Then she felt strong hands go around her waist and then she was being propelled up towards the surface.

Emma’s head broke the surface and she coughed violently. Her hair was plastered to her skull and her clothing was like little dead weights glued onto her skin. The arms were still around her, but now she saw they were attached to a body.

A body with a voice that warmed her like the glaring sun. “Are you alright?”

She coughed again and nodded. Her head felt foggy; her body felt lethargic and her mind was spinning. Dizziness overcame her and before she knew what was going on, she was slipping back into the water. Her head went under and the last thing she saw was his face, peering down at her from above, watching as she drowned.

Emma’s eyes fluttered open to the sound of a crackling fire. The sky was dark around her and she could see above her, in the trees, that it was a little windy. She felt warm, though. A second later she realized why. A huge, thick blanket was expertly wrapped around her, tucked in and practically so tight that it squeezed her rib cage together. Like the hospital does. But she wasn’t at the hospital…was she?

She looked around at her surroundings. A body was slouched across the fire; a silhouette of someone prodding the flames with a long stick. She coughed and sat up a little. She’d just realized she was propped up against a rather large log.

The person across from her immediately jumped up and rushed to her side. “How do you feel? Are you okay? Can you hear me?”

Emma grinned, “What? One question at a time would be nice.”

Elijah’s face came into view; illuminated by the jumping flames he looked even more handsome. He was smiling at her, his eyes serene. “Are you okay?”

Emma nodded slowly, “I think so. What happened?”

“You fell off the cliff,” he laughed a little. “Luckily it’s such a small cliff.”

“Barely a cliff and more like a hill,” she mused. “It’s only a cliff because it has jagged edges--”

“That you very luckily did not get cut on.” He said, examining her face with his eyes.

Emma nodded, and suddenly wished she hadn’t. The dizziness returned and she moaned. “God. How long was I out?”

“Well, I think you were unconscious for a while and---” He saw her horrified expression and laughed. “Kidding. You weren’t. You came too the second your head hit the water’s surface. Then you fell under again and I dragged you to the shore. If you were running like that, I didn’t feel it necessary to bring you back to the hospital until you’d had time to calm down. So, I was trying to figure out what to do with you and you were quite rude to me really.” He smiled fondly. “But it’s okay. You just insulted my rescuing tactics. But, really, you should have been thanking me for taking swimming lessons when I was nine.”

Emma laughed slightly, feeling lazy and tired…and weak. “Sorry. Thanks for saving me. If you hadn’t…I would have died.”

Elijah shrugged, “Well, probably. But let’s not talk about that. Let’s talk about why you were running away from the hospital looking like you’d seen a ghost.” He settled in comfortably next to her, his arm around her.

Emma shifted uncomfortably but he didn’t move. He just watched her with a stern expression that rivaled Dr. Johansen’s. “I---ah---had an interesting therapy session.” She shrugged. “No biggie.”

“I think it is. If you nearly drowned because of it.” His voice was very serious and filled with worry. “Emma, your doctor told me that she wants me to talk to you about…what happened before you came here. I told her that it was up to you. That I couldn’t do anything to persuade you unless you wanted to tell me. She seemed to think that you’d tell me no matter what I did.”

Emma laughed loudly, which caused her to cough quite a bit. “What would make her think that?”

Elijah shrugged and looked away. “She thinks you like me or something.”

Emma’s emotions turned from laughing to being horrified. “Oh my, God. I can’t believe she discussed those things with you. I’m mortified.”

“Emma, I really would like you to confide in me. I feel comfortable with you and I hope that you do with me. I want to help you if I can.”

Emma sighed heavily. “She had no right to mettle in my personal life---I mean, lack thereof, really, but---”

“It’s alright,” he interrupted. “I know what you mean. But she’s just worried about you and wants to help. I talked to her for a long time about you…me…Lily…everything. She’s really bright.”

Emma rolled her eyes cynically. “Yeah. Well.”

“Emma,” he took her hand in his. “Lily told me she wants me to take care of you after she dies. I can’t do that unless you trust me.”

Emma pulled her hand from his grasp. “I don’t want you taking care of me because you feel obligated by your sister, Elijah.”

“I don’t,” he insisted, “I feel obligated by myself, as your friend. Tell me what’s going on so I can help you. I want you to get better so that when Lily is gone…we’ll have each other to lean on.”

Emma looked at him, her features softening. When she saw the emotions in his eyes all she wanted to do was let the entire story spill. She wanted to unload it all on him…let him mull it over and have to deal with it for a while. Most of all, she wanted him to understand her.

But could she trust him?