Emmaline [revised]

“Emmaline.”

He was trapped in a cave-in.

Edward’s breathing constricted as, second by second, the weight of the massive rocks began to crush him out of consciousness, out of being.

His bulging muscles indicated great strength, but physical power could indicate nothing about his ability to escape so long as his will power was deceased.

His vision flickered, and his tangled body collapsed under the strain. Edward peered upwards, searching for the slightest glimmer of opportunity, of possibility to evade downfall.

And though darkness engulfed him, impairing his vision, Edward knew that what he sought out was long gone. Fate had dictated inevitable separation from his potential savior, severance from his only hope in the pressure and gloom. Fate? Rather he himself had caused this, through what surely was immense naivety on his part.

In the slight perception he still possessed, Edward cursed himself, as though his downfall weren’t punishment enough. He would be tortured so long as he had memories of the past--because these recollections, in contrast to the present, made his current situation even worse.

Her sound embrace. Her defined scent, floating around days after its owner had departed. Her lively eyes, his reflection shimmering in them as they intently followed his every move. The indescribably peaceful, awed expression on her face in his presence. Perfection.

And he had disposed of it all for...for what? For the possibility that he couldn’t possibly have reached the peak of his life, that something even greater was surely lurking around the bend.

But, alas, the path he had taken was nothing but a dead end.

A single word was uttered in this moment of defeat—and though it could not possibly do his feelings justice, it sent an out-of-earshot apology to the only one he felt for.

“Emmaline.”

And somewhere, miles away, a girl was also peering upwards, desperate for a glimpse of the sun.

An everlasting expanse of sky, invisible to her eyes, was home to this phenomenon—phenomenal not because of its of warmth and light, but because of its permanence.

Every night, shadows were cast over the world. Pale, translucent light would replace the powerful shimmer of the star suspended over the Earth as the moon got its chance to reign.

And yet, every morning, the sun would return, ready to guide the paths of all of the world’s inhabitants it shone over. Sometimes clouds obscured its brilliance, but the sun always prevailed.

Tears dimmed her vision even more as she lamented her misfortunes. She sat beneath the shade of thousands of towering treetops. The forest was thick and impenetrable by all outsiders, including the mighty sun. She hadn’t seen sunlight in so long, she was sure that the moon had triumphed.

The beauty of the sun was so close; she could sense the ghost of its vivid influence trickling through her veins. But it wasn’t here, where she had been imprisoned in gloom for so long. It was beyond this maze of trees—out of her line of vision. No matter how hard she squinted, her eyes could not penetrate the darkness.

She had invested so much in him, and in turn, he had promised the world to her. He was a constant in her life; no matter how dark her life seemed to be, she could rely on him to be her protecter, to overpower life’s clouds and shadows. They thrived off of one another’s presence day in and out. Until...until she wasn’t enough. Until he was sick of being the one to conjure happiness. She couldn’t pinpoint the day that had happened. Only the day he had admitted it. The day he’d colored her world gray.

Her bare leg brushed up against the rough tree trunk, and she flinched, having forgotten every sense but her sight. She could, at least, see her body, a pale figure, radiate through the darkness.

And looking at her weak leg it struck her—Waiting had done her no good. The sun would not find her. She herself had to seek light. She had seen the sun before—who was to say she couldn’t find it again, somewhere else?

“Why didn’t I think of that? Just...walk away,” Emmaline breathed. Happiness and satisfaction wouldn’t come to her if she did nothing to gain them. Edward had once been her source of contentment, of security. She could feel that again, with someone or something that wouldn’t lead her away from the daylight and abandon her in the shade.

“Emmaline,” he said.

But she was already gone.