Part 17 (1/2)

Some people believe that right before death, a person reaches a point where they experience comfort and they see the images of every happy moment that completed their life. I've died twice, and each time all I see is the Reaper. So it that supposed to be my happy moment?

”Wake up.” Someone pats my face. ”Em, open your freaking eyes. You're scaring me.”

My eyes roll open to the grey sky, Raven's sapphire eyes, and a thousand wilting roses surrounding my head and drifting in the air. The angel statue stares down at me as I gradually sit up and rub the dirt from my skin. I twist my arms and stretch my legs.

Raven sighs and leans back to give me breathing room. ”Holy s.h.i.+t, Em. What happened?”

Every single tree within a quarter mile radius is dead, dried out, and stripped of their leaves. The gra.s.s is charred to a crisp and the dirt is cracked out like desert sand.

Did I do this?

”I have no idea...” I press my hand over my beating heart. ”How did you find me?”

She holds up the necklace and points back at the hill. ”This was lying on the side of the road up there.” She hands it to me and I clip it back on. Then she helps me to my feet.

Her death is as black as the night sky-I can't feel it. But I can feel her life pumping through her veins.

”I was. .h.i.t by a car... I think.” My brain is hazy, but I remember tumbling down the hill. ”I'm not sure... Can you just take me home?”

She studies me with uneasiness in her eye. ”I think we should take you to a doctor.”

I shake my arms, checking for pain. ”No doctors. I just want to go home.”

She wraps her arm around my lower back. Her death is silent, but her life whispers to me: Take me, take me, take me.

It takes a while, but we accomplish the walk back and make it to the top of the hill where the trees are blooming with life again. Her car is parked on the side of the road with the engine running and the driver's door open.

I wiggle from her arms, feeling liberated. ”Maybe I should walk home.”

”Get in the car,” she orders sternly, with tired bags under her eyes. ”You need to go back home. There's officially a curfew in affect now that Farrah's body was found.”

Maybe the same person who killed her is trying to kill me. I hop in the car and slam the door.

She sits in the driver's seat and clips her seatbelt locked. Then she leans over the console and clips mine. She pulls out onto the road. ”I really, really think you should go see a doctor-you look terrible.”

”I'm fine.” I pull a rose from my hair and run my fingers along the dried out petals, fascinated with its lack of l.u.s.ter. ”A car just b.u.mped me a little and I tripped down the hill.”

”Yeah, right.” She s.h.i.+fts her car and speeds down the highway, the tires squealing. ”You don't just trip after a car b.u.mps into you-you had to have been run over.”

”I'm not going to the doctor,” I say. ”So take me home.”

She flinches at my hostile tone and doesn't say a word for the rest of the drive.

I've calmed down by the time we pull up to my house. It's still early but the sky is bleak with clouds. The lights are on in the living room and my mom's red Sunfire is parked in the driveway.

I unbuckle my seatbelt. ”I'm sorry for snapping at you. I don't know what's wrong with me... I just feel so... confused.”

Raven presses her lips together and eyes my house. ”It's okay. You were still my friend through my little meltdown.”

”With Laden?” I brush the dirt off the front of my legs.

She nods slowly. ”I'm not ready to talk about what happened yet, but I promise you I had nothing to do with his disappearance. And you have to promise me you'll tell me what happened today, when you're ready.”

”You mean with Cameron?” I ask. ”Or with the car?”

Her gaze steadies on me; there are bags under her eyes and her olive complexion looks sheet white. ”Both.”

”Cameron turned out to be a douche bag.” I open the car door. ”And when I'm ready, I'll try to explain what happened with the car.”

She smiles. ”I love you, Em. You know that, right?”

”I love you too.” And at that moment I mean it.

I climb out of the car and go into the house. My mom is sifting through the bills at the kitchen table with takeout in front of her. She has on her uniform, a checkered dress covered by a white ap.r.o.n, and her hair is pulled up into a bun. I head up the stairs.

”Where have you been?” she asks.

I back down the stairs and step into the kitchen. ”I was out at the lake.”

Her brown eyes are as huge as silver dollars. ”Why are you covered in dirt and scratched?”

”I picked a fight with a rose bush.”

”And you lost?”

”No, I think I might have won.” I have the dead rose in my hand and I place it on the table.

She sets the papers down and stares at the rose. ”Where did you get that?”

”That's what was left over from the fight.” I plop down in a chair and grab a fry from the takeout bag.

She picks up the rose, twirls it in her fingers, and dead rose petals float to the table. ”You know I never expected your dad to leave.”

”Which time?” I chew on the fry. ”When he moved out or when he disappeared?”

”Ember, I hope you don't think your dad's coming back.” She drops the dead rose on the table. ”He's probably dead.”

”I know that.” I pick up the phone bill from the table, stamped with a bright red OVERDUE. ”But I won't completely accept it until they find his body.”

She collects the trash and tosses it in the garbage. ”I never meant to blame Grandma's death on you.” She slips on her jacket and ties the waist shut. ”I was just upset.” She pats my shoulder and sweeps my hair back like how she did when I was a child. ”If you ever need to talk about anything, I'm here.” I nod, trying not to cry, and she grabs her keys from the counter. ”I'll see you in the morning.”

After she leaves, I sneak up to the bathroom and check her prescription bottle in the medicine cabinet. She's been taking her meds again, which might explain the uplift in her att.i.tude. On the way to my room, I run into Ian in the hallway.

”You look like c.r.a.p,” he announces, eyeing my dirty clothes. ”Ember, that guy didn't... Did he try...”

I shake my head before he can finish. ”I tripped down a hill.”

He slips on a faded flannel jacket. ”Hey, I got someone coming over later tonight, so don't lock up.”