Being Shot

P h o t o #18 - Pictures Of A Forgotten Past

P h o t o #18 - Pictures Of A Forgotten Past

~Emma's POV~

Stepping out into the night sky, I had realized that gray clouds had formed across the upper atmosphere, peppering over the beautiful sight we had all witnessed tonight once again. I sighed.

"Th-Thanks for the ride." I stammered, turning my head back to face Elliot sitting in the driver's seat. A sudden chill coursed through the air. I adjusted my jacket over my forming goosebumps.

Elliot didn't say a word, didn't even spare a glance at me. In fact, he hadn't said one word the entire ride home. It seemed like the whole car was engulfed in an thick, tense air.

At any other time, I would have ignored it, passing it off as the same old, mood swing-y Elliot. But this was not like any other time. He was paler, more distant that usual. His eyes were darker, something consuming all of the green in his hazel iris', leaving a dark, jagged brown in it's wake.

I thought back to the short moment that we shared alone together just a few hours earlier. His asthma attack. His shadow that seemed to stretch across the mucky ground at least thirty feet long, castes by the milky moonlight. His smile.

A shiver ran up my spine at the thought. I adjusted my jacket again, wondering why I was so cold tonight.

As I watched Elliot's dark car pull out of my cracked concrete driveway, listening to the sound of pulled out rubble being kicked up by the wheels. As I gave the car a small wave, another thought came to surface in the ocean of my brain.

I wondered what left Elliot so blank yesterday, his eyes always glazed over. His imagination seemed to overtake him quite a lot, something that I had never seen happen to him. It made me a little worried.

When we had that small, somewhat serious conversation on the benches, he appeared to put a lot of thought into every answer he gave me, taking time to himself before responding. That was another thing I had never see him do before.

My front door closed with a click and a creak, echoing throughout the now sleeping house. I looked at the clock by the closet. 12:53 a.m. I breathed out a breath in relief, knowing the darkness could only mean that my grandmother was fast asleep in her master bedroom and wouldn't hear me coming in an hour later than my curfew.

But the darkness was a whole other thing. I was never good in the pitch blackness of the otherwise comforting house, always having the light on my alarm clock to gleam in my room at night. It was one thing I quickly took notice of when I first moved in here with grandmother.

The clouds must have shifted outside, because a sliver of white light flickered through the window of the front door, illuminating the biggest picture that hung on the wall in front of me.

My father's sparkling brown eyes stared back at me, his model-like smile brightening up the entire picture. His black hair that was an exact copy of mine curled in wild bundles down to his strong shoulder blades. His face was beyond handsome, and it always was in my early memories. There was no wonder as to why my mother had fallen for this man at first sight, just as she used to tell me in the stories of the event in my childhood, me always thinking of their love story as just like the princess' in the old story books we always had laying around the house. I was always willing to listen to those stories, but not only for the tale. I usually asked to hear of them once more just to listen to my mother's velvety voice, loving it's sound as it rocked me to sleep.

My eyes drifted back up to the picture. Looking at it now more carefully, I noticed how it was a professional picture dating years back to my father's late college days.