Emily's House (The Akasha Chronicles) by Wright Natalie

Author:Wright, Natalie [Wright, Natalie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Boadicea Press
Published: 2011-11-04T18:30:00+00:00

30. Riding the Waves

If I'd had any sense about me, I would have kept my eyes closed and tried to hurry up and think of something good - anything else. But it’s like a car wreck that you drive by and you can’t help but look, even though you know you might see something gruesome.

I opened my eyes and there I was, in my mom’s hospital room. The last one. The last time I ever saw her.

There was my dad, sitting in a chair beside her bed. And there, on the other side, was a little girl. Her long red hair looked unbrushed. She was sitting with her eyes open, wide with fear but totally focused. The room was silent except for that awful sound. What’s making that horrible sucking sound?

There it was the machine, the thing responsible for the awful sound. Some contraption hooked up somehow to the little girl’s mother. A large, clear plastic container with what looked like a bellows inside, going up and down in a smooth rhythm. And below the bellows, a disgusting black, tarry substance. Was the tarry stuff coming out of the woman? Or being put in?

No kid should ever see their parent die. Yet there I was, reliving the nightmare again.

It was unbearable. The long seething wound deep within me was ripped open again. The tar alien being sucked out of my mom by that horrible machine. My dad, eyes red-rimmed, his face ashen gray. The little girl – my child self – focusing on her mother’s station – picking up her frequency for the last time. And there through it all, that incredibly irritating sucking sound.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I rushed over to that machine and I started ripping at it like a mad person. “Stop sucking the life out of her!” I screamed at it as I knocked it over and pulled at the cords and wires.

“I won’t see this again!” I yelled as I swung madly at the air, trying to make the ghosts go away.

I cried then, mighty heaving sobs that I thought might wholly overtake me in a river of tears. I was no good as a warrior. I would drown in my own tears before I’d had the chance to help anyone.

I felt arms around me, and I was afraid to open my eyes for fear of what I’d see. But the touch was small and soft yet unfamiliar.

I opened my eyes and it was Madame Wong, the last person I expected to comfort me.

I didn’t say a word but instead just relaxed into her arms. Without us speaking any words out loud, I knew as surely as I’d ever known anything that Madame Wong knew more about my suffering than anyone I’d ever known – or would ever meet. The human part of her knew.

In my mind, I saw a group of ancient Chinese houses. Rice paddies. Beautiful mountains in the distance. But the houses were on fire. The sound of anguished cries.

There were other pictures flashing before my mind’s eye.

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