Chapter 7 The Fall
764 Words
Thud.
I hit the oak branch, bounced, swung, and then crashed down into the lawn below.
Crack.
I heard the sound of a bone breaking. A sharp, biting pain shot up my right leg.
The back of my head throbbed too, a dull heavy ache, and I couldn't open my eyes.
It hurt. It hurt so much, tears poured out.
I wanted to get up, but my whole body had no strength.
My eyelids were so heavy. My body was in so much pain.
"Mommy..." I whispered.
I wanted Mommy to come save me.
My consciousness blurred.
In the haze, I thought I saw Mommy and Daddy holding my hands, walking together through Central Park.
I was hopping along, and then — oops — I tripped and fell.
Daddy scooped me up, his voice worried. "Emma, does it hurt?"
My knee was burning. I cried out loud.
"It hurts. Emma hurts so bad..."
My leg wasn't the only thing hurting. My stomach was so empty. My whole body felt awful.
Mommy pulled up my pant leg and blew gently on the scrape.
"Be a good girl, Emma. Mommy blows on it and it won't hurt anymore."
Daddy picked me up, soft and gentle.
I leaned against Daddy's chest, hearing his strong, healthy heartbeat, and felt safer than I ever had.
Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat.
Rain started falling on my face, pulling me out of the dark.
I opened my eyes slow, the whole world spinning.
A few beats late, I realized I was lying out on the lawn in the yard.
Wait — wasn't I on the second-floor veranda? How did I fall?
I didn't know how long the rain had been coming down, but my clothes were soaked through.
My heart was empty.
I didn't want to wake up from the dream. In the dream, Daddy was good to me, and Mommy wasn't sick.
I hoped she'd never be sick again.
I shivered and sat up, coughing and coughing.
I coughed for a long time, couldn't get the cold out of my lungs. My throat felt like it was full of needles.
I wiped my face, and then I saw — there was red on my hand.
I froze. Did I cough that up?
But there was no medicine in the house. I'd fed it all to Mommy.
Thinking of Mommy, I scrambled to stand.
A piercing pain shot up my right leg, and I fell again.
It hurt!
Tears flooded my eyes.
I was so scared. The leg didn't feel like mine anymore.
"Mommy..." I called out, my voice hoarse, cracking.
Mommy didn't come.
She was still sick. How could she come help me up?
I wiped my face with my hand, and for the first time, I told myself not to cry.
My little arms were covered in scratches from the oak branch, all burning.
I saw a broken branch on the ground, picked it up for a crutch, and braved the pain to hobble to my feet.
I looked down and saw — my right leg was bent wrong, the foot twisted back behind the heel.
How did it get like that?
I didn't understand.
Maybe when I fell from the veranda, I hit the branch and broke the leg out of place.
It looked so scary.
I used the branch as a crutch and limped back into the house.
In the bedroom, I saw Mommy lying quiet on the bed, and I couldn't hold it in anymore. Tears rolled down my face.
"Mommy, Emma tried to climb the oak tree to get out and find a doctor for you. Emma fell from the veranda."
"It hurts so bad. Emma can't walk. Wake up and hold Emma..."
I sobbed, couldn't catch my breath.
But Mommy still didn't answer.
Did Mommy not like me anymore?
Pit. Pat.
In the quiet room, the only sound was my crying — and then a dripping.
I looked at the window, then down. It was my wet dress dripping onto the floor.
The pale princess dress was soaked dark, with dirty mud smudged all over it.
The floor had a long trail of water where I'd come in.
Mommy said you can't wear wet clothes, especially when you have a cough.
I peeled off all my wet clothes, fumbled around, found something dry.
I tried to put it on.
Braving the pain, I got the shirt on. But my swollen, crooked leg wouldn't let me pull on the pants.
I held the pants and looked back at the bed, hurt. "Mommy, Emma can't get dressed."
- Writer
