I close my eyes, and put my arms in front of my face to brace myself. I listen to the thunder crashing across the sky, and the rain hitting the ground, as I wait to feel the teeth of the mountain lion. I wasn’t sure whether or not I was about to die. If someone found me in time, I would probably survive a few bites and scratches, but then again, I’ve never been attacked before.
An ear-piercing bang forces me to jump back, startled. My ears feel like their blocked from the load noise deafening them, so I carefully lower my arms to look. The mountain lion lies on its side, unmoving. There’s a blood-covered hole right where the organs would be inside the torso. To my right, stands my dad, holding the family shotgun. He shot it dead. Just like last time.
“River,” I have to blink a few times to make sure I’m hearing and seeing right. Emery rushes towards me, and kneels at my side. He brushes my hair out of my eyes and looks at me with concern. “Are you okay?”
Dad follows in suit and looks at me cradling my arm. “I think it’s broken,” I whisper, stuck in shock. “And my ankle feels twisted. I don’t think I can walk.” My dad nods to Emery who slides his arms underneath me. Despite both of us being soaked, his arms are warm as he picks me up. As I lean into him, we start to walk towards the house. “How did you find me? Where’s Silver, and King?” I ask, suddenly worried.
“Silver ran to me while I was already on the road,” Emery explains, avoiding my father’s glare. “I knew something had to be wrong, so I rode her back to-“
“Whoa, wait,” I interrupt, looking up to meet his eyes. “You rode Silver bareback?” He shrugs as my mouth hangs open.
“I went and yelled into the house,” he continues, as King runs up to us excitedly. “King was already waiting there.” King barks at the mention of his name, and my dad laughs.
“He never really learns, does he…?” His words aren’t formed in a question as he quietly trails off. I know he’s thinking about the other times the dog has done this. Especially the time when Ocean died. The memory resurfaces, but for the first time since it happened, I don’t shake. Maybe it’s because I’m snuggled into Emery’s chest as his hands cradle me against him. Or, maybe I just conquered my fear.
Two Weeks Later:
I head towards the kitchen table, carrying four plates in my good arm-the right one- and juggle between holding glass cups and forks in the other. It’s in a bright pink cast that no one has signed. Partly because I don’t really know anyone, except Mary, who really wanted to sign it, and Emery. But I refused to have it marked with only one, possibly two names.
“River,” Emery scares me, and I forget to keep my bad arm tilted upright. In a matter of seconds, everything is on the floor shattered into a million pieces. Sighing, I bend down and scramble to pick up the pieces. “You aren’t supposed to be doing anything,” Emery says, helping me grab the large chunks of glass and forks.
I roll my eyes, and stand up. “I’m not going to sit around and be a deadweight,” I mutter, throwing the glass in the garbage. Emery walks over and copies me, throwing the shattered pieces into the trash.
“How’s your foot?”
“Fine.” It had been fine after a few days of staying off of it, although Emery insisted on asking me every single day since.
“What about your arm?” I grab the dustpan and start to sweep up the remaining shards.
“Also fine.” It didn’t hurt anymore, but that’s because it’s in a cast. Emery and I meet eyes. His are full of concern. No one had mentioned anything about his dad the past two weeks, and I think indulging in my well-being is the only thing Emery can do to not freak out.
Twenty minutes later, the table is set as Emery and sit down, staring at the meal my mother had made. Her and my father chat mindlessly, while I try to reach to my left for the corn. My right arm can’t reach it from where I sit, so I reach out with my left. It looks absolutely ridiculous, considering it’s bend awkwardly in a cast, but I’m starving.
“That is just sad, River,” Emery chuckles as my fingers just begin to graze the bowl of corn. “Can’t you just ask me to pass it?”
I shake my head no, and stretch with all my might. I could probably get up and get it easier, but I’m already too far in. “I don’t want to bother you,” I mumble, just about grabbing the bowl. My fingers are right about to wrap around it when Emery takes it away. I fall back into my chair and glare at him. “Way to ruin the moment.”
He rolls his eyes and places the bowl of corn beside my plate. “I was just getting it for you,” he smiles, as I begin to dig in. Emery had been this way ever since the accident, and as much as I loved it, it’s starting to freak my out. He sleeps in the loft every night since there hasn’t been any more storms, and it worries me. I wonder if he still has the dreams, or if he still wants to leave. I bet he does, but he’s not leaving because I’m hurt.
The phone rings, and my dad stops talking. “River, can you get that?” Smiling, I pull out from under the table and stand up. My dad had been the only one not treating me like I’m handicapped and made me feel sane. Emery watches with wary eyes as I walk towards the phone and grab it. No one ever called during dinnertime around here. It is just plain rude.
“Hello?” I turn around and lean my back against the wall, staring out at the window. The sun hadn’t start to set yet, but the sky is an orange tint as the daylight slowly starts to fade away.
“River? It’s Mary.” Her voice is rushed, and I can clearly hear worry in it. What would she be doing calling at this hour? She knew how my dad hated being interrupted during dinner, and her dad is the same way.
“Mary, what are you doing calling-“
“River,” Mary interrupts me, and I hear her move quickly with the phone, probably running into another room. My parents glace towards me every so often, telling me to end the conversation, but Emery just stares, not even holding his fork to eat. “Is everything okay?” I scrunch my forehead together. I had told her about what happened with the mountain lion the day after it happened. What is she talking about?
“Yes, everything’s fine. I’m eating dinner so I have-“ Annoyed, I grunt as she cuts me off for the second time. This isn’t like her at all.
“I think something’s wrong,” she whispers. I avoid my dad’s get-off-the-phone-right-now look and walk into the other room. I sit down in a chair and cross my legs.
“What are you talking about?”
“Does Emery have a bad past with his dad?” She asks quickly, when I hear her talk to someone in the background. All the blood falls from my face as her words hit me. How does she know about Emery having a bad past with his dad? I never told her anything.
“Yes. Mary, what the hell is going on?” I whisper angrily into the phone so my parents can’t hear.
“Well he’s here.” My mouth falls open, but before I can ask any questions she continues. “My dad’s talking to him now, and Emery’s dad doesn’t seem very happy…” She trails off, and my whole body starts to tremble. My mind goes into survival mode as I whisper yell into the phone.
“Mary, listen to me. You can’t tell him where we live. He wants to kill Emery, and we can’t allow that to happen, do you understand?” She pauses for a moment, and my heart skips a beat.
“Let me go tell my dad before Emery’s father leaves,” she whispers, and I hear her put the phone down. I can hear her walk away a few steps, and a door open and close. I assume she went outside but when I hear her yelling I know I’m wrong. “You did what?” Meredith Rosemary Smith has not once in her entire life yelled at her preacher father. Not once, until now. I hear her father yell something back but before I know it she’s gasping into the phone crying. “River,” she says, more urgently than before. “We have a problem.”
I waste no time in responding. “What is the problem?”
“Please, please don’t be mad,” she pleads.
“Mary,” I snap, shaking uncontrollably. “What is the problem?”
“Well, my dad told Emery’s dad where you live…” she trails off as my body becomes numb. I don’t feel like I have control over myself. Everything around me seems so distant from where I am right now. “And he’s on the way to your house right now.” The phone slips out of my fingers and falls onto the floor, creating a thump. Maybe Emery was right. Maybe he is going to die.