When she woke up, Emma was laying in her bed at home. The warm blankets were pulled up to her ears as she snuggled down into the pillows, reaching over and turning off her alarm. She sighed and opened her eyes, rolling over to say good morning to Carl. When she was turned to face the man lying next to her, hear heart leapt into her throat.
The man had curly, caramel-coloured hair and a slightly freckled back; he was breathing evenly, facing her. His face was so angelic when he slept that it saddened her to have to wake him up. Reaching out delicately, Emma shook him slightly.
"Mm!"
His face wrinkled as he groaned, obviously disliking the interruption.
"W-will? Will, wake up!"
Emma shook him again gently, continuing to do so until he opened one of his eyes and gazed up at her in the morning light flooding their bedroom. He ran a hand over his face and rubbed his eyes, turning on his back and yawning. Stretching, he looked over at her and smiled, propping himself up on one elbow and leaning forward to kiss her.
"What are you doing?" Emma inquired, watching him move closer to her. There was nothing more she wanted than to kiss Will good morning each day, but she was a married woman. It wouldn't be fair.
Will looked at her and frowned, sighing slightly.
"Well, I was about to kiss my wife good morning, but apparently she's still angry about the argument last night," he sighed again, looking up at the ceiling, "Emma, I've told you time and again. Holly means nothing to me. I don't care that she's teaching at McKinley full time now; I don't love her. I love you."
"Y-your wife?"
The redheaded woman looked at him, clearly confused. Will rolled his eyes, clearly not entertained by his wife's antics.
"Yes, Emma. My wife. You. For five years. Dammit, I get that you're mad at me, but you really don't need to act like this," Will began to climb out of bed and walk over to their bathroom, scratching his head, "Just don't act like that when Millie comes in, okay?"
"Millie?"
"Our three year old daughter, Emma," he rolled his eyes again and shook his head, slightly annoyed with Emma this morning.
Emma watched as Will walked into the bathroom and sat up, looking herself over. She felt normal, she looked normal. She pinched herself slightly; she felt awake and her ring from Carl still sat on her finger. Was it from Carl, though? The more Emma tried to get a grip on who the ring came from, Will's face began flooding her mind more and Carl's began to disappear quickly.
Moments later, Emma heard the pitter patter of little feet coming down the hallway and into her bedroom. A petite three year old stood in the doorway, her long, ginger curls messy from sleeping. Emma smiled and patted the bed.
"Good morning, baby girl."
The little girl walked over and scrambled up onto Will and Emma's bed, crawling to Emma and wrapping her arms around her neck. Her tiny arms squeezed her and her face nuzzled into Emma's neck.
"Hi, Mommy," she whined in a cute voice that said she'd just barely woken up.
Emma's arms wrapped around Millie and squeezed her gently, kissing her forehead.
"Did you sleep well, sweetie?"
The little girl nodded and Emma smiled, swaying from side to side slightly. She took the moment of silence to process things, memories of Millie in the past three years starting to make sense in her mind. She was comfortable with Millie, and the girl – her daughter – was comfortable around her. She shook her head slightly, putting her confusion off to a dream as Will walked out of the bathroom.
"Good morning, Daddy," Emma said, smiling at him. Referring to Will as 'Daddy' gave her butterflies in her stomach.
Will smiled, "Morning my girls."
Millie pulled her face away from Emma's neck and smiled at Will, "Daddy," she said quietly, acknowledging him before hiding in Emma's hair again.
"Sorry about earlier, Will. I had one of those really real dreams last night. Left me confused."
Will laughed slightly and bent over, kissing Emma's cheek.
"It's okay, baby. Sorry for getting so annoyed."
Emma nodded and stood from the bed, still holding onto Millie and followed Will downstairs to the kitchen.
They settled Millie into her spot at the table and Will made the three of them eggs and toast for breakfast. They were in the middle of breakfast when Emma heard Will speaking to her.
Emma, wake up. Please, Em, wake up.
She looked up at him from her plate.
"I'm awake."
Will raised an eyebrow and looked at her, nodding, "Yes, you are."
"No, you told me to wake up. I – I'm awake."
Will shook his head, "No, honey, I didn't."
Emma swallowed and took a drink of her water, confused. She'd heard him, loud as anything, telling her to wake up. A few minutes later, it happened again, but there was another voice with it.
Emma, please wake up for me.
We pulled her out of so much twisted metal, it'll be amazing if she can breathe on her own.
Freezing, she sat up, fork halfway to her mouth.
"Is the news on?"
Will shook his head and reached over, feeling Emma's head, "Sweetie, I think you should go back to bed. You feel hot."
Emma looked at him, nodding. She licked her lips quickly, kissing Millie's head before going up to bed and lying back down. She felt her forehead; she did feel hot – extremely hot. Resting on the pillows, Emma closed her eyes, trying to sleep, but every few minutes, new voices were in her head, screaming things, rushing, beeping. After an hour, Emma rolled over in her bed and put the pillow on her head.
"Make it stop!"
"Make what stop, Mommy?"
Emma startled, having not heard Millie enter the room. She pulled her head from beneath the pillows and looked at the tiny ginger head barely peaking up over the edge of the mattress.
"Mommy's got a big headache," she nodded slightly, frowning.
"Does it hurt?"
"A little."
"Like falling off the slide?"
Emma chuckled slightly and nodded, "Kinda like falling off the slide."
Millie seemed to consider this for a moment before scrambling up onto the bed. She moved over to Emma and pushed away the blankets. Crawling down, she kissed each of Emma's knees. Then took her hands and kissed the base of each palm, gently setting Emma's hands down and looking at her expectantly. A smile spread across Emma's face, watching her.
"What was that for, Millie?"
"When I fall off slide, you kiss my knee boo-boos and my hannies," Millie nodded and smiled, "Then I'm all better! Are you better, Mommy?"
Emma's heart melted as Millie explained to her. Tears sprung to her eyes and she nodded, taking one of Millie's hands and kissing it gently.
"I feel better, baby girl. Thank you."
Millie smiled, clearly proud of herself. She lay down next to Emma and snuggled up to her, "Mama, I love you," she said, planting a sloppy kiss to Emma's cheek.
Emma wrapped her arms around Millie and held her close, pulling the covers up over them. She buried her nose in her daughter's hair and smiled; she smelled like fresh strawberries and sweet vanilla. Innocence.
"I love you, too, Millie."
"Mama, is Daddy sick?"
"No, baby. Just Mommy."
"Am I sick?"
"No, sweetie, just Mommy."
This seemed to put any worries Millie had in her little mind to rest and she fell quiet. She rested her head against her mother's chest and played with her sleeve gently. Emma began to stroke the little girl's hair gently, letting out a contended hum. She was feeling hot, and felt a sweat break out on her forehead, but Millie loved her so unconditionally. She didn't care that Emma was sick and burning up; she just wanted to be with her mother. Though she was feeling uncomfortable with the heat, Emma kept her arms around Millie and closed her eyes. Moments later, Millie began humming gently and Emma smiled. As she began to drift to sleep, an uneasiness crept over Emma. Something told her that this was wrong; her bed, her life, her daughter, all of it was wrong. Before she could delve into the subject further, she succumbed to sleep.
How long Emma was sleeping, she wasn't certain, but when she awoke, she was face down in a pillow, struggling for air. No matter how much she gasped, air would not enter her lungs and she couldn't move. Emma tried to scream out, but she couldn't.
I'm dying, she thought to herself, tears streaming from her face and onto the pillow, her lungs aching. The voices returned in her mind, indistinct and mumbling as if she were submerged under water; that explained the suffocation. Moments later, she felt a sharp pain in her chest, as if someone had punched her, and suddenly, she was able to breathe.