Spring Break

epilogue

    How does one get over immense loss? How does someone cope with the death of everyone of their friends? How does someone stand at the funerals of four people after witnessing their gruesome deaths and wonder why they were the ones to survive?

   Emma didn't know. Two and a half years later she still didn't have an answer. The first year had been the hardest. She'd returned home only to attend each of their funerals; Madison's, Jeremy's, Joanne's and Griffin's. Emma could barely meet their parents' eyes, only faced with the memories of her dead friends. 

    And then came the therapy. When Emma had finally been released from the hospital, and the police's interrogations, she had been restricted to intensive therapy. She hadn't objected at first, because how could she deny that she needed help? After what she'd seen?

    But each session seemed to be growing more and more hellish. Returning to college made it easier for Emma to lose herself and the trauma in her work. But every time she returned to that dreaded room, her therapist forced the memories to come rushing back until Emma was a shivering heap on the floor. 

    So gradually, she stopped going. Week by week the therapy sessions became less and less frequent until she wasn't going at all. Emma thought that the night terrors were okay. She thought that they were worth escaping the terror therapy made her suffer through while awake. But those around her, those who cared about her, disagreed. 

***

     A loud scream ripped through Emma's throat, breaking the steady silence that'd filled the dorm. Wesley sprung up from where he slept on the bed across from hers, his eyes gleaming with terror because with that sound came the horrific memories. 

    "Emma" he breathed, kicking the covers off of the bed before tumbling to his feet. He ran to her bed, watching as thick streams of tears ran down her panicked face. Loud wails of terror and agony escaped her, the bedsheets clamped in her fists as she thrashed. 

   Lifting her shoulders up, Wesley slid beneath her where his strong arms wrapped around her. "Hey, hey, it's me. It's Wes. Emma! Emma, listen to me. You're okay. I've got you. You're safe" Wesley promised, rocking her slowly back and forth while pressing his cheek against the top of her head. 

    Slowly her screams died down to muffled cries, her glistening eyes fluttering open as they took in the familiar room around her. Emma's hands flew to Wesley's arms where they took hold, anchoring herself to something she could grasp. 

    "You're okay" Wesley breathed, taking slow, calming breaths. Emma let the warmth from his bare skin melt the chill that clung to her. Turning to her side, Emma let her head rest against his chest. Her trembling hand found it's way to the pink scar tissue that resided on his chest, delicate fingers tracing the mark. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

    "It's the same as all the others" Emma whimpered, her skin pale under the moonlight that trickled in from the small window above them. "I'm back there. I have to relive it all; the deaths, and-and losing you. But in the dream you don't come back. And I never get out." she admitted, shuddering against him. 

    Wesley nodded slowly, pressing a gentle kiss against her forehead. He'd had similar dreams himself, but over the past year they had slowly begun to fade. His therapy had helped. He was far from okay, but he seemed to be getting better. He wondered when the same would happen for her.

    "You're not going back there" Wesley promised, hugging her tight. "I've got you. And you're safe. Okay? I love you Emma. We're finally safe".

***

    Emma would be forever grateful to the staff at the University who allowed Wesley to transfer there, and room with her. It wasn't typical to allow it, but with their rare circumstances, they allowed the rules to be bent.