OK sorry that once again it has been so long since I've updated. Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed and supported me in any way. I'm thinking about doing another story on the side... Emma's diary entries. Tell me what you think about that—now, never, maybe later?
YES! TENTH CHAPTER!
Disclaimer: I've said this every chapter (I think; at least most) before; need I really tell everyone again? I do not own anything but the idea + Emmaline + the poem (I wrote it). :D
Chapter 10
EMMA'S POV
I was gone. For good. Really, choosing between myself and the world wasn't hard—I'd only been hanging on by a thin strand. I was glad that people had tried to help me, but how had I expected them to help when I never told them the complete and absolute truth?
Now I had no reason to keep the secrets down, from myself, any longer. Everything about me was tired, but I still wouldn't die. I wanted to, yet my mutation simply would not stop; I had zero control.
Walking out of the Institute was the easiest thing I had ever done. It was like I was finally going home, by leaving there. People cared for me at the Institute, but I cared for them more. Each person in the world—I knew them. I was no stranger to death,defeat, sorrow. Just think of how many people are born, living, and die every day. S many, I had long since lost count. So much was out there.
One more person dead, me, the world would scarcely feel anything. I was barely apart of this place anymore. The only reason I was still alive was my mutation.
Ever since I was three years old I had been absorbing everything around me, and whenever my emotions went even slightly up or down, I withdrew more energy. However, even once my emotions were 'normal' again, the amount stayed the same. It didn't take me long to notice how quickly I healed..
I was a physically perfect example of a human being, but imperfect in every other possible way.
Now, nine years later... I wasn't even a teenager yet and already I could tell where this was going.
Every heartbeat counted now, because now that my hours, my minutes, numbered so few, each second, every moment was crucial.
Previously I had experienced so many emotions at their peak. Right then, I could feel someone in Africa dying. An arrow protruded from his chest, and trails of warm blood ran down his shirt. Then he was gone. I didn't even cry; I was numb with pain, I had felt too much.
Lives, living and dying.
Each moment.
It's gonna take a hundred years
to cry all these tears.
I bear your burden,
sing your song,
been following all along.
It's gonna take a thousand years
to cry all these tears.
I look in the world's mirror.
And do not like the sight that greets me;
does life hate me?
It's gonna take a million years
to cry all these tears.
You can't mend hearts with tape
Only send your sorrows through
letters of tears.
It's gonna take a trillion years
to cry all these tears.
The greatest of my fears is war.
Fir hearts are torn, and minds are worn.
Sometimes I feel as though I have yet to be born!
It's gonna take a zillion years
to cry all these tears.
I page the album, staring at the past
wishing moments of glory could last
not speed by so dearly fast.
It's gonna take an eternity of years
to cry all these tears.
I feel the world's pain,
for all is lain out plain
for me to see,
the veil is torn.
It's gonna take way to many years
to cry all these tears.
Cherish the moments of joy!
Bask in the smiles, they will last for
a thousand miles.
Ignore the dim ploys...
Sing the glory song with me.
For all to hear and to see!
My eyes are dry
I heave not one sigh,
as the years pass by.
Why?
I am so sad,
ad think only of moments glad.
I didn't waste all my years
with all those tears.
Years ago, I actually believed that. On page 52 of my diary from when I was eight, I had composed it. The night came back to me:
Curled up in a ball, the young girl sobbed. She had walked all the way from northern Minnesota to Michigan, through so many states, so many miles. Another pang hit her heart as another life ebbed away, joining her side.
The pale figures beside her whispered. Some were comforting, scary, or just sad; it didn't matter. She wanted them gone! Next to her, she could feel Brian's presence, but she didn't want even him.
"Write."
The only word he said, but it held so much meaning. Sensing its importance to the girl, the others took up the cry. At last, she snapped open the notebook. Instantly, they were gone, as the pen flew across the page.
How many times had I sang myself to sleep with those very words, finding comfort within?
Suddenly, I tripped over a stone. I had arrived. This place would likely be forever marred with my blood. Yet this did not matter; let the world see my mark laden across these stones for all of eternity, for I was saving them from me.
As soon as I found out how to die, that was.
Professor Xavier quickly figured out what had happened. Emma had left; but why? Then it hit him. Why she was gone.
"Ororo, come with me. To Cerebro. And round up the older student, please. This will have more risks involved than that which meets the mind."
So? What do you think?! :)
flying feather scribbles