Young Writers Society

I don’t know when I started running, but I don’t think I have ever gone this fast in my life. Doors and lights seem to blur together. I follow the sound of her howls blindly, hoping that I can get there in time.

But what if I am too late? What if that Josh person kills her to shut her up before I get there? Why am I even running for her? I only just saw her today; the first time in what, seven years? Who’s to say she hasn’t changed? How is it I can just place my life with her and pretend like nothing is wrong with that?

Her screams get progressively louder. Am I going the right way? None of this looks even remotely familiar.

People look at me as I sprint past through the doors to rooms. I wish I could say that they didn’t have time to shout something at me, but my legs can barely carry me anymore. My head bobbles from side to side and my arms go every which way. I just have to get back. I can get back. I will get back.

A small wetness lands on my neck. I’m crying. When did I start crying? Why would I cry? I should be embarrassed. I’m too old for tears.

I run faster and try to wipe away the little rivers running from my eyes.

“Emma!” shouts Beth, from just down the hall.

I stop dead. My Mom is in there, holding her down; I can see that much from where I am. They really are killing her. Move Emma!

It feels like someone strapped lead weights to my feet. The heartbeat pounding away in my chest grows louder than I ever thought it could. The walls seem to move closer to each other, leaving me trapped in between. The room comes slowly towards me. The slow rhythmic slap of shoes fills my ears. They form a halting song to soft to be heard by others. I drag my hand across the frigid stone and stop at the doorway to the hospital room.

The people laying on tables at the other end of the room have been moved and every doctor is standing around Beth. Her arms and legs are tied down by leather straps, but she still tries to escape. Her mouth is open, constantly screaming. Her hair is covered in sweat and her back is arched above the table. An Asian man tries to put another strap around her stomach while my Dad pulls out a needle.

They’re killing her.

With one burst of energy, I force the doctors around her head to the side. I reach out to brush back a lock of hair from her face, and feel the engulfing heat pulsating off of her forehead.

“Beth,” I whisper.

Her head snaps towards me and she opens her bloodshot eyes. Her arm strains to reach towards me, but the straps hold her back. What have they done to her?

“Jake! Where are you! You need to get them out. Please! They are coming for you. They’ll take you all away!” she screams.

The doctors ignore her voice entirely. They have a blood transfusion bag attached to her arm and are struggling to keep it there.

Who’s Jake? You all?

“Emma, get out!” my Mother shouts with desperation. She is down by the feet, trying to stop her from hurting herself.

No, I’m not leaving her again. I’ve made my choice. Whoever she is, I will stay by her.

Dad pulls out a needle and inserts it into her arm.

“What have you done to her?” I shout.

He’s poisoned her, he must have. Tears poor out my eyes and I try to push everyone away from her. They can’t hurt her. I won’t let them.

I cry more and more. They are killing her, I know it.

A firm hand grabs my arm to pull me away, but I resist. I won’t leave her. I try to shrug them off through closed eyes, but they continue pulling. I cling to the table with desperation.

A small pain erupts from the base of my neck. I open my eyes and reach towards the pain, and see my Dad holding another needle. He injected me.

“No,” I whisper.

Beth is still, no longer struggling. The drug works that fast.

My knees cave in and my head crashes into the ground. The lights spin in a swirling circle, engulfing the room in light, only to be turned out.