Emily

Emily

Screams. Fire. Mama’s gone. Papa too. What do I do…

I wake to the stinging feeling of ash layering inside my lungs. It hurts...

“Emily! EM! Save us! Save us! We’re burning! PLEASE!” The voices of my friends, my family, neighbors. Why did I leave them. My dry, teary eyes open, a cold tear, shivering on the tip of my nose. It’s so cold. Even as the whipping necks of fire still consume the houses. The people I knew, trembling on the ground. Some aren’t moving at all.

“Em…” I turn to a shaky voice. Aro. The winter wind ruffled his hair. He was curled up, knees hugged to his chest.

“Em…” My heart thumps. In a second, I’m plucking my aching body from the ground and slowly sliding over towards him. Every pull of my arms, another bruise. Every wheeze of my breath, a bit of my soul escapes. Aro lay on the ground, ashes sleepily caked against his clothes. I’m dirty. I look down at my own shirt.

“Aro…” I whisper, finally reaching him. Our hands collapse against each other, intertwined. Aro, my best friend.

“These two look like prize don’t they, eh boss?!” A brute edged closer to us, knife in hand. His clothes are shabby, like any hooligans. A younger man steps out, Fatche. The leader of the men who burned down our village.

“Good work Frip, we’ve got ourselves a delicious treat righty here!” Fatche exclaimed, hunger in his eyes. In moments, we were roughly catapulted into the back of a cart. Along with the hay. The farmer driving was horrified. He’d just been passing through when he saw the village burning. Fatche took care of it, he certainly was good at persuading people. His ways are certainly different, I thought, looking at the whip marks on the farmer’s arms and legs. His old hands were shaking.

Aro and I hugged each other, smelling our familiar smells under the choking scent of burning flesh. Our dirtied brows burned with the heat of our flaming homes.

“Girl, boy.” The farmer suddenly spoke, voice rough and clogged.

“Run you idiots!” He wheezed, whipping the horses and making them go mad. Fatche and his two men were slammed off of the cart by a hanging sign. Aro and I summoned all of our strength. Once we recovered from flying off the cart, we were running, bodies screaming in pain. We heard the shuffle of the farmer’s feet, he’s trying to run. A sickening squelch sounded as the cool metal slid into his heart. Dead. Aro and I cried quietly, tears aching in our eyes. Such a good man, didn’t have much time left anyway. The brutes’ leather boots crunched against the sandy road. Aro and I only ran faster. I looked up ahead, hand still locked with Aro’s.

“Aro, there’s shelter.” I panted. He nodded and we started sprinting. We were almost there! Just a few more meters! But then, it just had to happen then. Aro cried out as he fell, knee gouged on a rusted shovel at the side of the road, drawing blood.

“Go...Em.” He coughed. I knew I had to. I knew Aro wouldn’t make it, but I had to try. I had to! I lifted his face in my hands, tears clawing at my cheeks.

“Aro! You have to get up! You’ve got to! I can’t live without you!” He rested his chin on my knees, sighing. I could see the bruises on his broken legs already forming. Aro won’t be able to…

“Go Emily. I love you Em.” He breathed. I pressed my tear coated lips against his forehead, tasting the bitterness of ash in his hair.

“Aro! I’m so sorry! I will save you Aro! I’ll come back for you!” The brutes were a mere twenty yards from us now. With a shudder of my skirt, I was gone, disappearing into the darkness. The darkness, where no firelight could ever reach. The darkness, where hope was burned into an ashen heap. I remembered a saying from the elders. My lungs hurt, my heart hurt. All the while I was running, all I could ever say, or think about, was Aro. I heard his distant screams. I knew what Fatche did to children. Especially to Aro. Aro is his son. Aro was his son. I could feel the knife sliding across Aro’s skin. I could taste the blood, punched out of his stomach. I could smell the bloody bruises on his scraped legs. I could even feel the rope that slowly choked him. Like my head was about to explode.I could still feel Aro’s sweat trickling into my hands, his sweet, sweet smile, that I never even got to see. Aro’s gone, isn’t he. I thought passively. Yes, Aro’s gone.

I woke in the dilapidated barn, pain racking every nerve in my body. I moved one leg, and instantly I had pins and needles. I cried out, bruises knocking against each other. I stared at my legs, purple and red, blue and yellow. The pain in my heart was dull, I’d forgotten something important. My eyes widened, sweat pulsing. Aro. Fatche. Frip. Mama. Papa. My sister, Lola. They’re all gone. I smacked myself across the face, a serious hit. I’d given myself a bruise. Right now, I was only about a mile away from the village. I needed to get out of this country and get to the city. The city of Tenkuro. A place where freedom was free, and sadness was non existent. That was where I needed to be. That was where Gran was. It was only two miles away, and there was a dirt road leading all the way there. I would set out at night, it would be safer.

My eyes flickered across the cabinets, searching painfully hard for food or water. I found canned beans, that was all. A leather satchel was pinned up to a wall. I took that too. I had my pack ready, and the moon was out, glaring at the ever bright sun on the other side. I set out, clearing away every sign that I’d ever been in that house.

Usually, walking two miles would take me only about a half an hour, but with my injuries, I was limping for a full hour before I reached Tenkuro. Often times, during the “hike” I would hear Fatche’s brutes shouting with their torches in hand,

“Got another trail boss! She’s near.” At those times, I would hide in a bush, climb a tree until they passed, or run. It was easy to evade them. Those idiots would usually mistake me as a deer or some small animal. The darkness was my friend. The light, was an enemy. When I peered at the towering buildings of Tenkuro over it’s gates, I was in awe. To die of being burned alive, was nothing compared to being tortured to death by Fatche. Aro, I’m going in now. Come with me. I shook my head, what am I thinking. He’s...gone. He’s dead, just say it. I placed that thought at the back of my mind and entered the city. The guards knew me well and stepped to the sides. Gran was at the gates, old wrinkles forced into a worried arch. She’d received a letter about the attack, and promised to wait there everyday. For me.

“Emily!” She cried out, old voice shaking with the leaves. Gran. Running forward, I collapsed in her embrace, ignoring the sting of my wounds. I’d made it. I’d survived.

“Gran.” I whispered. I was safe. I was finally safe.