Broke, Broken, and Breaking

Prologue Part 1:The Accident

My sister decided now was the time to finish her prep. I imagine myself sitting on her feet, arms around her legs, and her attempts futile to shake me off. I imagine her giving up and us walking home together, safe. Of course, no such thing happens. Instead, she takes off in a run and promptly jumps off the bluff. Her blonde hair is whipping around her head, a wild, silver, mane in the moonlight.

Suddenly, I am surged forward. Whatever has control over my body wants me to see this. In other words whatever is going to happen is bad. That much I know from what my gut is telling me.

My gut was right even though I desperately wanted it to be wrong. She is frantically trying to get her parachute to open. It won’t budge.

“SKY-“ she screams, suddenly realizing I am here, finally realizing what I had been trying to do. But it is too late. Too late for her, too late for me to save Emma. The phrase “So close, yet so far” suddenly has a new sickening meaning to it. In a sick, demented, twisted, sinister way it is the situation in a nutshell.

The wolf I had seen earlier lunged off the cliff twisting, swerving in the process of falling. Somehow graceful in an utterly chaotic, wild, seemingly random way.

I hear a crash and the sound of ripping fabric as she was torn apart by the trees and their branches. All I can do was watch and hope with my entire being that this isn’t really happening. That this is all a dream, no, some sick, twisted nightmare of my imagination’s doing.

“Sky” speaks a new voice, similar to hers and mine, yet neither of ours. “Sky” more urgently it speaks now. “SKY for Christ’s sake wake up” it (she?) all but yells. “Skylark Matheson wake up this instant” yells my mother.

I blink open my eyes, shivering from a cold sweat, and sigh in relief as I take in our bedroom and my mother’s worried face. Wait a second. Worried? Uh-oh.

“Where is your sister?” she demands angrily. You know all that relief? It just went flying out the window.

“I don’t know” I manage to choke out meekly. Terrified all over again, this time for both of our safety.

I look at her half of the room and noticed her bed is made and her gear gone. Not a good combination. Add the fact that I had a nightmare about her parachuting, not a good combination at all. I scramble out of my bed throwing off the covers with a flourish and promptly begin looking for a note.

She always left a note when she leaves, no matter how angry at us she is. It always contains a promise to be back soon and an apology. My search is cut short by my mother. “I already looked, there’s nothing” followed by “I wouldn’t have woken you up if I had found it”. I continue my frantic search anyway. With a sigh she joins me in a search I now have a feeling would be as futile as my efforts to save her in my nightmare.

We both jump at the sound of a phone going off. Sharing hopeful looks we ask simultaneously the same question. “Is it yours?”. I shake my head in reply and pluck Emma’s phone off of her bed-stand. Glancing at the caller I.D, I take in a sharp breath. Why would he be calling her in the middle of the night? I click the send button and prepare myself for the stream of words that is sure to come from his worried mouth. Before I have the chance to speak a syllable, her boyfriend interrupts me.

“I am so glad you picked up-there was an accident at your favorite place-I was so worried-you tend to go there at night-“Scott blurts out in one breath.

“It’s Sky. She left her phone at the house.”. At this point I just wanted-needed information. His calling at this hour would either prove to be a waste, or would prove to be inaluable in determining the location of my sister. Pushing the sinking feeling in my stomach to the back of my head I focus on the words being spoken by Emma's boyfriend. Which just so happen to be a string of swear words that would put a sailor to shame. Seriously.

“********************************************”

“Done yet?”

“Yeah sorry about that, just worried.” I feel myself rolling my eyes at the comment. Like we, her family members might I add, aren't worried about her? Who does Scott think he is? The only person to have ever cared for my sister? He better not. 

“Aren’t we all?”My reply is laced with enough venom to make him audibly wince over the phone-line. That doesn't stop him from starting to word-vomit, though.

“Where is she?-Did she leave a note?”he burts out quickly, as if it would speed up the exchange of information taking place. It doesn't. 

I answer his spew of words relatively calmly. My voice is even when I tell him the answer, betraying none of my seemingly darker worries.“I don’t know, I was hoping you would know and to answer your other question, no she didn't leave a note”.

“************************************************”

“Scott swearing profusely isn’t going to help and you know that” I snap, somewhat angrily, albeit more in annoyance and worry than anything else.

“Just that-Will she-What if Emma-“ he continues. He really never shuts up does he? Maybe thats why she likes him, his excess of words makes up for his lack of personality.

“Shut up! Your rambling isn’t going to help either” I groan, annoyed. Why can't he just tell me what I need to know? That way we can go back to ignoring each others existance until a problem (like this one) forces us to communicate again.

“Jeez OK, OK I’ll shut up” he offers as a truce to my *itchy attitude.

“Thank you, I appreciate it, greatly” I answer sarcastically.”Tell me what you know about the accident” I snap impatiently. What is up with this guy and not giving me the information? 

“Um well.”

“I haven’t got all day, ya know”For the the love of all that is love just spit it out already!

“A teenage girl was parachuting on the mountain. Her parachute didn’t open in time. She died on impact.” he blurts out even more rapidly than previously. So fast I almost didn't catch the words.  Emphasis on almost.

“Happy now?” he snaps angrily. 

My thoughts are too clouded to answer to his remark. I am too focused on the information given to me and how it matches my nightmare and what is going on around me.

It couldn’t be could it?

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If it isn't to much trouble could you guys check out my other work This Is My Life? heres a little info about it.

It will be a series of one shots based on my life with a person who has autism. Some of the one shots will be in his point of view, others will be in mine or something similar. This is non-fiction book but the names of the characters will be changed as well as the places for privacy reasons.

Feel free to PM me, feedback is welcomed with wide open arms. 

Also I have a little writer's block so that feedback? It's really needed. I think my family is fed up with me already;)

Under absolutely NO circumstances is any material from this story and others to be copied without my consent.