Page 39 of Breaking Emilee

“Son, we need you to move so we can get to her,” one EMT says, pulling at my arm. I step away from my girl’s body and stand by her grandfather’s side. The one that pulled me away places his fingers on her neck. I wait for him to say they found it. He never does; he moves to the other side, “Get them out of here,” he says to the officers that I didn’t notice are standing in the doorway. Before they can even say something to us, her grandfather speaks.

“I’m not going any fucking where.” I just shake my head over and over.

Please, Emilee, don’t do this.

Don’t leave me, Butterfly.

God! You can’t leave me.

I love you, my Butterfly, and I haven’t told you.

Finally, I hear him, “I got it. It’s really faint; we have to move now.” With that, they pick up my girl’s limp body and place her on the stretcher while they start to try to control the blood that is still pouring from her. Her shirt is soaked through with her blood, and her hair is wet with it as well. I can see a police officer speaking to her Nana. Still, I can’t hear anything they say because my focus is solely on Emilee being wheeled away. I follow behind her, not caring if anyone else is following me. They don’t waste a minute. They load her up and shut the doors then they are gone.

* * *

I must black out because I don’t remember how I got to the hospital, but that is where I am. I only know that because a warm hand grabs mine, bringing me out of the darkness. Looking to the left of me, I see that the warm hand belongs to my aunt. How did she know where we were? How long have we been here? “Parker, don’t you think we should get you cleaned up? I brought you a clean shirt?” She asks me. Looking down, I can see that I’m still covered in blood, a mixture of Christians and Emilee’s. Why would she do this? Did she really think that dying was the way out of this? Dropping my head, I don’t answer my aunt; I just silently cry. I should have told someone. I could have prevented this.

“Emilee Hill’s family,” someone asks. Looking up, a doctor stands in front of us with a chart. I try to get a read on what he’ll say, but I can’t. He can’t tell us that she didn’t make it. I can’t hear that news. She has to be okay. Her grandparents, brother, a girl who I figure is Carly, me, and my aunt all stand simultaneously. I’m still shaking. I want to see my girl; no, I have to see my girl. The doctor is only standing before us for a few seconds, but I’m going out of my damn mind. He better start talking now. I guess I’m not the only impatience one.

“How is she?” Her grandfather asks.

“She’s going to be okay. She needed a blood transfusion because she lost so much blood. She has to have multiple stitches on her arm and a small cut on her head. What I’m worried about is that she has a concussion and the fact that she lost consciousness on the way here.” All of us sigh at the same time. Luna squeezes my hand, and I take a deep breath for the first time since I stepped foot into that cafe. She’s going to be fine, at least physically. My girl will live, and I’m going to make this right.

“I’m going to be honest with you. Emilee needs help. Have you noticed the scars on her? It looks like she has been self-mutilating for a while.” Everyone who should have noticed this looks guilty because none of them have paid her attention lately. Out of all of us, I’m the guiltiest one because I knew and never said anything. I thought I could handle this myself, which is the stupidest thing I have ever thought about. So, I do what I should have done a week ago. I speak up for her and tell everyone.

“It’s been going on for at least five months since September,” I state, only looking at the doctor because I cannot look at her family. I know I failed her I should have told someone who could have helped her. “I thought she was doing better since she told me, but she cut last weekend. I tried…” I trail off. After all, I don’t know how to tell them what happened at school because I know I’ll look like the bad guy. I have to find proof that Vanessa and Christian were behind this.

“Parker, why didn’t you tell anyone,” My Aunt asks, squeezing my hand again.

“I thought I could help her,” I say, dropping down into the chair and looking at the floor. “She promised me that she wouldn’t do it again. She has been going through so much at school and…” I stop because I feel someone put a hand on my shoulder.

“Son, as her parents, we should have noticed what has been going on with her.” Her grandfather says, sitting beside me.

“But I knew, and I didn’t say anything. I really thought I could help her, sir. I really did. I thought that…” I’m stopped by the doctor, who put his hand on my other shoulder before he speaks.

“What Emilee needs is professional help, son. I’m sure you were doing all you could, but something serious is happening in her head that is more than you can help with.” The doctor sounds so professional and nice, but that doesn’t keep the guilt from strangling me. A sob that I’m trying to keep in breaks through. I start shaking from the force of the tears flowing down my face. We could have lost her and all because I wanted proof. I shouldn’t have been so worried about that; I should have been worried about her. How could I have been so wrong?

“What do we do?” Her Nana speaks up.

“I will be collecting information for treatment facilities that can help her. I want to keep her here for the time being. To monitor her not just for the suicide attempt but for the concussion. I will have the resident therapist come in and talk to her. This will give us an idea of what we are dealing with.”

“Can we see her?” The girl, I assume is Carly, asks.

“Yes, two at a time, and let’s not talk about anything too serious with her. She is very fragile right now.” He says as her grandparents stand up and follow him out of the room. I haven’t even noticed that everyone has sat back down. The rest of us just sit here, not speaking to anyone, as each one of her family members stands up and goes to see my girl. I just sit with my head in my hands, waiting to finally see my girl again. Will they even allow me to see her after discovering what I’ve kept from them? Will she tell them why she did it? They will likely tell me to get the hell out of the hospital if she does. I need to see her just like I need the air around me. I have to see with my own eyes that she’ll be okay.

“Son, do you want to go see her?” I look up to see her grandfather standing in front of me, looking like a shell of a man.

“Yes, sir, I do. If that is okay.”

“I’m not sure what is going on with her, but I can tell by the look in your eyes that you are hurting just as bad as the rest of us are. We will talk later about how you knew what was going on, and we had no clue, but for now, I think it would do her some good to see you.”

I stand and do the only thing I think to do hug the man who is riddled with guilt. He squeezes me like he really needs the hug, but he doesn’t know that I need it just as much, if not more. Walking down the hallway that seems to span forever I stop, staring at the door that is standing between me and my butterfly.

I can hear the beep of machines right through the door, which seems to calm my heart just a little bit. Every beep means my girl is alive, and I have time to make this up to her.

I push the door open, and she turns her head to see who has entered her room. I can’t read her face; it’s like I’m looking at a stone wall. This isn’t my Emilee. Normally I can tell what she is thinking just by looking into her eyes. She opens her mouth, and it’s like she steals all the air when she says as seriously as I have ever seen her.

“Get out, Parker. Don’t come back. I’m dead to you.” She turns away from me to look out the window again. She doesn’t look back at me, but I still don’t move. I know she is hurting, but I thought she would have at least given me a chance to explain. She has to know that I would never hurt her, that she has my heart and soul. I may only be eighteen, but she is it for me, this I know, and she needs to know this as well.

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