Page 98 of Elijah
Amy
aged 28
As I ran through the streets, soaked to my skin, I could barely breathe, my hair hung in long, wet strands and I was sure my makeup would be smeared across my face, but I didn’t care. I had to get there and speak to Elijah.
Gasping for breath, I rounded the corner of the street and breathed a sigh of relief; on a driveway was Elijah’s truck, so slowing down to a quick walk, I continued to the house. I hadn’t had time to think about what I was going to say, I just knew that I had to speak to him. Thankfully, Sam hadn’t questioned me too much about why I wanted Elijah’s address, if anything he sounded relieved. He even wished me good luck before he ended the call.
When I was still some way from the house, I noticed the front door swing open and Elijah came storming out with a weekend bag slung over his shoulder – my heart cracked knowing he must be going to see her, Mia. He strode forward, with determined strides, and with his head down against the rain, he pointed his key at the truck and beeped it open.
Without any other thought than I needed to stop him, I started to run and screamed his name into the wind and rain.
“Elijah, wait.”
My voice got lost in the air, so I opened my mouth again and screamed his name even louder, picking up my pace as I did so. Still not hearing me, he threw his bag into the truck, and then got in himself.
As I ran faster, my bag slipped down my shoulder and fell to ground. Stumbling over it, I almost fell flat on my face, but managed to right myself just in time. Snatching it up, I continued to run, but Elijah was already pulling out of his drive.
“No…Elijah…wait,” I screamed, desperately catching my breath in between each word.
It was no use; with the noise of his engine and the rain, he wasn’t going to hear me. Frantic, I ran into the middle of the road, dropped my bag and bent forwards, dragging as much air as I could into my lungs to screech out his name again, but still he didn’t hear. Leaving my bag, with its contents spilling onto the asphalt, I ran a few steps, waving my arms around. When he still continued to drive toward the junction at the end of his street, his indicator blinking brightly in the dimming light, I kicked off my ballet shoe, stooped to pick it up and threw it as hard and as far as I could, aiming for the back window of the truck.
It was useless. My aim and throw were pathetic and the shoe landed only a couple of feet in front of me and with the rain still sheeting down, feeling cold, and wet and utterly deflated, I sank to the ground as Elijah continued to drive away.
“Don’t go, please,” I whispered, holding my soaking wet head in my hands. “Come back.”
I didn’t care that I was sitting in the middle of the road, that I was soaked to my skin and was wearing only one shoe. I didn’t care that a car could come around the corner at any moment and not see me and potentially kill me. I didn’t care, because nothing mattered any more. He’d gone to her, I was sure of it and I’d missed my chance to tell him how I really felt.
As I sobbed into my hands, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up, expecting to see a concerned stranger, but gasped in shock when I saw Elijah.
With rain running down his face and off the end of his nose and chin, he silently held out my shoe to me. I took it, still looking up at him and put it back on and once I had, he held out his hand to help me up.
“You s-s-topped,” I stammered, the cold suddenly chilling me to my bones.
“What was that?” he asked, nodding down at my shoe. “It was pitiful.”
I glanced at my feet and then back up to him. “I was trying to get your attention.”
“Why?”
He wasn’t wearing a jacket and the thin V-necked jumper he had on and white t-shirt underneath were already soaked.
“I wanted to talk to you,” I replied, blinking away raindrops from my eyelashes.
“What about?” He widened his stance and crossed his arms over his chest as he looked down on me.
“Us. I need to talk to you about us.”
Elijah grimaced and shook his head. “Nothing to say. You said it all the other night.”
“I know…” I sighed, trying to find the words. My feelings were torn. Half my heart was crying out for him to kiss me, while the other half wanted to tell him how angry I was at how he’d gone about things.
“Go on,” he insisted.
“I know what I said,” I continued, taking a deep breath. “I know I was angry, but I’ve had time to think about things. Consider how I feel.”
Elijah let out an empty laugh. “Oh right, so now you’ve done that, ‘considered how you feel’, what great conclusion have you come to?”
His jaw was set tight and there was no way he was going to make it easy for me; I could see the determination in his eyes.
