Save Me

An Everwood Fanfiction

(Starts in the episode "Turf Wars" where Julia's parents visit from New York, and Colin's parents tell Amy to leave the hospital because she's stressing everyone out. In this story, it's Amy's birthday on the day of that big party.)

Chapter One

"Ephram, Ephram!" Delia shouted in delight as she rudely barged into his messy pigsty of a room. "Come look at what Grandpa got us!"

Since her excitement was so apparent, Ephram ignored that she had violated one of his biggest rules by not knocking on his door for permission. What a sweet brother he was.

Amidst her eagerness, Delia stopped and inquired about what he was doing, a reason why he didn't like people just coming in his room without asking. Delia and their father forgot most of the time, so Ephram has resorted to locking his door frequently. It extinguishes the problem and he's even breaking one of his dad's rules. Bonus!

"What are you drawing?" she asked as she clicked on a lamp above him, so she could at least have decent light for her eyes. Ephram loved to keep his room dark and comfortable to his likings. It favored an enormous cave more than anything, even during the brightest hours of the day. He liked to say that it mirrored the torment he was being forced to endure. Everwood was his hell on earth.

As his eyes readjusted to the unexpected light, he attempted to glare at her, but was only able to manage a hard squint.

"It's a birthday present for Amy."

Delia gaped at the slender ballerina figure her brother was sketching with charcoal. "Is that her?"

"Yup," he answered, not allowing his eyes to leave the paper.

"Wow, you would have beaten my entire class! We had a drawing contest, but mostly third graders can only draw stick people. You draw real people."

"I had the best art teacher in 6th grade, Mr. Henderson. If only we could be back in New York, you'd be able to learn."

"You can teach me, Ephram!" Her eyes widened with even more excitement.

"Yeah… maybe I will. But not now, I have to finish this. Her birthday is tomorrow."

"How long have you been working on it?"

"For maybe a week."

"That's a lot of time."

"Yup…" Ephram breathed. He wasn't paying attention any longer. Portraying the curves and features of his angel's face was all that mattered at the moment.

"Ok, then. Come downstairs as soon as possible. You have to see what we got!"

"I'll be there in a minute."

Delia skipped to leave, turned off the harsh light, and unintentionally slammed the door on her way out of Ephram's lair. He was able to soak back into heavy concentration, but found himself interrupted yet again when his father poked his head in the door and flicked on the overhead light.

"Hey Ephram," he said gleefully.

"Can't you knock," he replied in the same tone.

Ephram loved to ignore questions just as his father did, but his father took advantage of the right more often since he was the authority figure. "Whatcha workin' on?"

"Birthday present," he answered quickly. He figured if he cooperated, he'd leave him alone faster.

His dad questioned, "Oooh, for who?" ignoring his son's obvious attempt to get rid of him.

Figured wrong, Ephram thought, rolling his eyes.

His dad made his way past dirty clothes, and papers scattered across the floor, and glimpsed at the drawing before his son could cover it up. "That's amazing, it looks just like her."

"Thanks for your approval. It means the world to me."

"She's downstairs if you need to study her face a little more," he retorted with a small, quaint grin.

Ephram's face turned cold, possibly colder than it was outside. "Very funny."

At that moment, they were transported into the Wild West, and there they faced off in a ruthless staring contest. After a minute or two, the fearless young cowboy realized that the experienced cattle king wasn't playing.

"Yeah, she is," he chuckled, comprehending Ephram's facial expressions as if he spoke his thoughts aloud, "She says she needs to talk to you."

"Oh God, you have to stall for me!"

"I hope God heard that." He headed towards the door.

"Dad, please! I have to get this charcoal off my hands or she'll ask about it! I don't want to lie to her." The desperation in his voice moved his father in such a way that he couldn't possibly let him down.

If only Ephram could hear my desperation half the time, he said to himself. Instead of voicing that thought, he simply mouthed, "Ok."