The Art Class

II

          

He was nearly finished. Just one more streak of white there and a few specs of yellow here, and he would be done.

Julian smiled. And after the hair, he would—

A crash sounded in front of him. Julian was suddenly on the alert, swapping out paintbrush for seraph blade. He stood up, water tumbling to the ground. Where was the danger? Where was the—

Emma was missing.

"Emma?" He heard his panicked voice, as if from a distance. "Emma?!" She was no longer in her seat.

He panicked, her painting catching his attention. Emma's black blob now had a tail: a streak of black paint slicing down the white page, onto the table, and —

It hurt to look. She was there on the floor, golden hair strewn around a face that wasn't moving, eyes that were closed. Those inane students were all around her, babbling again.

And it didn't look like she was breathing.

He was hurtling now, over the art table that separated him from her. He didn't care if Mrs. Winters was screaming, if the students were sobbing. He was nearly there. Nearly there and the he would take her in his arms and run and never —

Something slammed into his stomach, knocking him back into the art table. Julian groaned, feeling nauseous, but straightened up. He had to get to Emma. 

Blobs of light danced in his vision, so close Julian could almost touch them. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, but the lights just got bigger and brighter.  

Taking his Seraph blade, Julian struck out at the lights, trying to make them disappear. They just danced closer, teasing him. 

"Arghhh!" Julian leapt towards the lights, seraph blade held high, only to collapse into darkness.