Untethered

14 | Wounded

A scream and a crash split the tranquil aura surrounding the couple on the swing. Ryan bolted upright so quickly that Emma nearly fell off the swing, and she grabbed onto him to keep from bashing her head on the ground. He wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her close, whispering in her ear, and handing his cell to her.

"Em, call 9-1-1, and stay here."

"No! You can't go in there by yourself!" she hissed.

He placed a quick, gentle kiss on her lips and got up.

"Please Em, just call 9-1-1," he implored, "and stay here!" A commanding tone was in his voice that made her bristle, but she nodded her head.

Ryan sprinted quietly for the house, and she turned the phone on. She'd make the call alright, but it didn't mean she was going to stay put.

~*~*~

Bile rose in Ryan's throat and he took deep breaths to keep it down. Fear was an acrid taste in his mouth, and his jaw was tingling with the effort to keep from throwing up. He flew toward the house, slowing down as he approached the patio doors on the deck.

At first, when he entered the kitchen, he didn't see anything out of place.

Then he saw her feet. His mom's slippers were sticking out from behind the cabinets, and an anguished cry, that resembled a feral animal, rose from deep in his gut.

"Ma! No! Nonononono..." He was around the counter and on the floor next to her trying to shake her into consciousness, but she wasn't responding. His cries became more and more panicked; he was completely lost.

He felt a hand on his back, and spun around, almost knocking Emma over when he stood up.

"Oh my God, Ryan! Is she... alive?"

"I told you to stay outside!" his eyes were wild and a little scary.

"Ryan..." her voice was soft and she touched his arm gently. "I called emergency—they're on their way. I still have the operator on the phone, they need to know what is going on with your mom." She gently led him by the hand, tugging insistently until he moved his feet and pushed him into a chair. He was so dazed, she was afraid he was going into shock, but Greta was the one wounded, so Emma left him reluctantly to cross back to her side.

She stayed on the phone with the operator and answered questions. A few times she tried to get a response from Ryan, but he wasn't hearing her. Greta wasn't responding either, which was scaring her immensely.

What the hell happened?

Broken glass glittered like ice and crushed flowers from a vase on the counter were scattered across the floor in a pool of water near Greta's head. If she fell, she might have grabbed onto it and pulled it down with her. Emma bit her lip, but then... what if someone had hurt her? Suddenly it occurred to her that if someone had been there, they still could be. She hoped not. The operator asked another question.

"No," she answered, "I don't see any blood." Then quieter, "I don't know if someone broke in, or if she just fell."

"Stay where you are, miss. Emergency services will be there in approximately ninety seconds," came the calming voice of the woman on the other end.

"Okay," Emma glanced at Ryan. He was in a different world. Holding the phone against her shoulder with her cheek, she slipped her hands around Greta's and squeezed. There was no response, but the warmth of her hand was enough reassurance for the time being.

Finally, they heard sirens, and the house was lit up with red and blue flashing lights, from the emergency vehicles outside. The sudden cacophony seemed to jolt Ryan back to the present, and he rose to open the front door. Leading the EMT's into the kitchen, he answered their questions monosyllabically. Emma scooted out of the way for them to get close to her friend, and moved to Ryan's side. She threaded her fingers through his, and covered both of their hands with her free one. Her touch and her scent permeated his senses, and served to calm him further, and pull him more fully into the present.