Silence
Prompt - #32: Silence. This comes to you courtesy of flashpoint_sru over on livejournal.
Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Flashpoint.
Lazer.
It was the silence that made it real. Pulled everything into reality and away from the dream like state he had descended into ever since the accident had happened. The simple lack of her laugh, the thud of her rapid feet racing across the floor, the squeak of springs as she bounded around her bed and her giggling voice as she spoke with her stuffed animals told him more than words ever could.
That Emma, his little sister, the bright spark of life, was dead.
Standing in the doorway, dressed in funeral clothes, Sam's gawky eight year old body trembled as grief rose in a wave. Tears tracked in a silent march down his cheeks.
The General suddenly appeared from the kitchen, bottle already in hand. Half had vanished in the previous minute.
Instincts overrode the pain for a brief moment and had Sam's small frame cringing back into folds of his mother's skirt. A light hand fell on his head but it was frozen and frail, lacking the gentle touch it had before. Before the car had run the light and taken Emma. And left behind her shoes.
The screech of tires on asphalt and the muffled thud as metal struck flesh filled his ears once again and a sob burned his throat. Before the General could continue his advance, little Natalie wiggled away from their mother's stone fingers and raced to Sam's side, her small toddler form burying itself in his arms. Stunned, all he could do was pick her up and hold her close.
Woodenly, Grace Braddock stepped out from behind her children and wordlessly lead her husband to bed.
"Saaam, wer 'Mma? I wan 'Mma!" Nat cried, her face scrunching up in distress. Little fists pounded on his shoulder, the sharp impact jolting him out of memories of watching Emma be torn away from him.
"I know Nat. I want her too," Sam whispered softly, closing his eyes and resting it against his sister's forehead. Somehow, the little girl sensed the pain that filled him and fell silent.
They stood there, innocence ripped from them far too early, and wept together.