Chapter Five

In this chapter, Death takes Michael on his first flashback..ooo exciting! It is in this point of the story that the readers are introduced to Emily. This is also the beginning of Michael's entire adventure

 

            Michael opens his eyes to find himself beneath a purplish-blue sky kissed with black clouds. A light breeze runs its cooling fingers through his tousled hair, bringing with it the smell of freshly cut grass and upturned earth. A gravel path runs by them and, after passing beside a bed of daisies, disappears into a small acre of trees. It takes some assessment before Michael realizes that they are standing in Main Street Park. As a little boy, he used to avoid his home life by walking here after school to write and draw. Everything is exactly as he remembers, aside from the fact that Death is standing beside him. Michael looks to Death in question and catches him directing Michael’s attention toward a forlorn boy perched upon a sagging swing set. His unkempt black hair hangs loosely into his face, obscuring downward cast eyes. Brown doe eyes fixate on a notebook and furiously moving pencil gripped tightly in his hands. As he writes, his swing sways slightly in the breeze while the beat and broken Converse on his feet drag in the grass below. A quizzical looks spreads across Michael’s face as he turns to face Death.

            “Is that…me?” he questions.

            “Yes. Watch. This is the best part,” replies Death. Michael turns back towards the adolescent boy and proceeds to study his younger self. Soon after, he hears the soft padding of footsteps running towards the young Michael. He turns to identify the stranger and is suddenly overcome by a gut-retching feeling of both grief and pain.

            “Hey Michael!” she shouts through the twilight. The young Michael glances up before swiftly shifting his notebook between himself and the swing; obscuring it from her view. Once the notebook is fully concealed, he looks back up to meet her gaze.

            “Um…hey Emily. How are you?” His gaze meets clever green eyes, deep with all the love and knowledge in the world.  Below falls her freckle-laced nose. Atramentous hair drapes in thick curtains around her neck and over sun-kissed shoulders. A breeze catches dark strands of hair, causing them to wander across the curves of her cheekbones and full lips. Slight wrinkles outline her eyes from her gleaming smile. 

            “What were you writing?” she inquires, catching Michael off guard.

            “Oh. Eh, it was nothing. Just some homework,” he replies. His shaky and unorganized answer distracts him, if only for a moment, but that instant is just long enough for Emily to take advantage of him. She grabs a ring of the notebook and quickly swipes it out from beneath him. Michael snaps back to reality and rapidly scrambles to regain his property, but Emily’s long cross-country legs have already carried her halfway across the park.

            “No! Emily please don’t read that!” he shouts from the swing set. Her voice rises into the evening, the words mixing in the silent air above them. Michael relinquishes and hangs his head in defeat.

“Hand in mine, into your icy blues.

And then I'll say to you “we could take to the highway

with this trunk of ammunition too”.

I'd end my days with you in a hail of bullets.

 

I'm trying, I'm trying.

To let you know how much you mean to me

And after all the things we put each other through and,

 

I would drive on to the end with you,

A liquor store or two keeps the gas tank full,

And I feel like there's nothing left to do,

But prove myself to you and we'll keep it running.

 

But this time, I mean it,

I'll let you know just how much you mean to me,

As snow falls on desert sky,

Until the end of everything”

 

            “Michael…it says this poem is for me...” Her emerald eyes stare into his, questioning him and searching his soul for every feeling he’s ever possessed for her.

            “Oh...why hold it back anymore?  I love you, okay?  Ever since the first moment I saw you; running past me in the hall. I knew that the rest of my life would be dedicated to you and letting you know how much I care.  I feel so different around you, and I want you in my life. But all you’ll ever be doing is running by me; you’ll never just be with me. You're all I ever think about...and it hurts to know that you'll never feel the same.” Michael lowers his head and waits for her to leave. However, he soon hears her soft step growing closer. He looks up to see her taking a seat next to him on the swing set. The chains slightly squeak as she begins slowly swaying back and forth. The silence envelops them; a conversation between only the crickets and their heavy heartbeats. Stillness pulls on them; a weight on Michael’s ever decreasing spirits. He can feel an awkward moment creeping in like the black clouds over the stars above them; however, Emily’s voice whips the moment back into the folds of the night.

            “Michael...you're wrong,” she whispers. He lifts his head, unsure if it was her words he heard or his conscious speaking.  

            “What?” he says, to correct his earlier confusion.

            “I like to you too. And I wish I could stop running.”

            “Why can’t you?” asks Michael. Emily hangs her head in thought before speaking, “I’m dating Jesse, but I can’t stand him. I can’t leave him though.”

            “Why not?”

            “I can’t tell you…” she whispers. A tremble in her voice causes Michael to lean in to her. He wraps his arms around her, inhaling the clean scent of her hair, and tips his head toward her ear. Her hair brushes against his lips as he speaks, “Emily, listen. You can tell me anything…I promise I will listen.” She loses herself in the actuality of his words and the tenderness of his touch. For such a tender touch why does she hurt so much? Beneath the weight of his arms she feels her skin give a dull ache, which snaps her back to reality. 

            “Do you ever wonder why I wear sweatshirts every day?” she inquires.

            “It never really crossed my mind. Why do you?” he replies quizzically. She shifts under the weight of his arms to take hold of the edge of her sweatshirt. Her knuckles turn white from gripping the hem and tears begin to pool in her lustrous green eyes. Slowly, she lifts her sweatshirt, exposing her beige and faintly toned arm. Three size-varied blackish-blue marks encircled her wrist. A greenish tinge outlined the impression, which spread an inch up her arm. Michael reaches out to caress the bruise, as if his loving touch could cure her ailment. His cold fingers make contact and she flinches in both discomfort and pain.

            “Did Jesse do this to you?” he angrily says.

            “He does more than that. He's controlling, abusive, and all around horrible...I don't want to be with him.” She pauses in thought; searching for the right words. “I want to be with you, but if I left him.  I'm scared of what he would do...” Again she lets her head hang in a mix of shame, anger, and sorrow. Michael leans toward her once more, cups his hand under her chin, and lifts her face up to meet his. Her gaze is wet with salty tears, which threaten to spill over at any minute. For a while he simply stares into her glistening eyes, while searching for the perfect words to speak of comfort, protection, and love.

            He speaks, “Emily, I swear on my life that I will never let him lay another finger on you.” The assurance of his words caresses every fiber of her being. They cloud her brain with hope and blur her vision with images of love. They wrap themselves around her bruise like a blanket; covering it and eventually healing the unsightly mark. Never before has she heard such words; full to the brim with love, care, and security. Her lips slightly tremble before she speaks again.

            “How do you plan on doing that?”

            Michael looks out on the park, thinking of an answer to her inquisition. He finds is answer in the billowing trees, the new grown daisies, and the luminous stars in the sky above. “I'll do whatever it takes to make him stop doing this.  You don't deserve it.  You're the most wonderful and beautiful woman I’ve ever met before. I want to be with you for the rest of my life and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t put a stop to this.”

A tiny tear runs down her cheek. Michael brings up his hand to brush it away. It is at this moment that Emily takes hold of his hand, while cupping her other hand around the side of his face. They stare into each other’s eyes as if the world had stopped turning. She breaks the gaze and begins studying Michael’s face with curious and loving eyes. A small smile slowly etches itself across her face as she rests her eyes on his flushing full lips. Michael smiles and leans towards her. Soft supple lips press against his as a wave of lust washes over his body. His fingers and toes go numb as all feeling is concentrated on her dancing tongue. Melting under her passion, he sacrifices every feeling to the mad impulse of the moment.

Author's Note

Just like everything else...any and all comments are needed and appreciated. Also in this chapter is it clear (especially after Emily enters the scene) that my references to Michael are only about the young Michael...not the Michael standing with Death and watching?
Also I might be combining this chapter with the upcoming chapter Six...simply because it might make more sense.