"Kid, can I get you anything?" A voice called out.
"He will not speak up." Someone commented with a sigh.
"I think he is in shock, but no one can blame him." The other person spoke up, after observing him.
"He has been through a lot today, poor lad." A girlish voice stated after popping a bubble, chewing on the gum rather incessantly for anyone's liking.
"Should we inform his folks?" A man inquired softly.
"There is no need for that, his girlfriend is already on her way." The girl nonchalantly responded.
"Well, this is going to be breaking news soon, the other kid, how is his condition?" Another one questioned,
"Horrendous, he has a cracked skull, ruptured spine, too many broken bones to be mended in time, he wouldn't be able to make it." The girl observed her nail paint as she informed them nonchalantly.
"Geez, what were they even doing near the quarry, especially at this time?" The man shook his head, scoffing in disbelief at the situation.
"I do not know, but this is very tragic." Someone voiced their opinions, as they eyed the boy with pity.
"Indeed, I heard that the boy had apparently saved him, and in the process of rescuing him, he had lost his footing on those ghastly rocks." A man reasoned, eyes shining in sympathy as he looked at him.
"They should've covered up that damned quarry." The girl bitterly added.
"Is it an accident-prone area?" The same man questioned.
"Yes, it is." She gave them a nod.
"Jesus Christ, can you both shut up and instead look after the kid? He is shivering, go and get him a blanket." A man barged in and fumed at the shuddering form of the boy.
"Rob, ain't letting us get away, I see." He sniggered, enraging the aforementioned man.
"Piss off, Chuck." The man, named Rob told him as he neared him.
"Whatever," Chuck said with much indifference as he looked at his phone in boredom.
"Hey, lad. What is your name?" Rob hesitatingly asked from the shuddering, hunched up figure of the boy.
"He will not speak, Rob. We think he is in shock." The girl repeated, earning herself a nod from the man.
"He has a gash on his elbow though, did you stitch it up?" He gestured towards the aforementioned wound.
"Yes, we did." She gave a nod before getting distracted by someone.
"Emmett?" Gwen forcefully dragged herself to the figure of his best friend.
"Are you his girlfriend, the one with whom I had talked on the phone ?" The chirpy girl questioned, observing her.
"I am his friend, Gwen. Is he all right?" She softly enquired before sighing.
"He is in a state of shock," Rob informed her.
"Emmett. Hey, buddy, I am here, I am here. Emmett?" Gwen embraced him as she rubbed circles on his back in comfort but Emmett's gaze was too fixated on his shoes to notice.
"Should we call a Doctor?" Rob nervously scratched his head as he directed his question towards his colleagues.
"I don't think it is necessary, besides the kid needs his rest, he looks too exhausted to function properly." She replied, shrugging it off.
"Can I take him home?" Gwen quipped.
"Sure just tend to his injury, and remember to change the bandages regularly and if the wound gets infected-" Rob started but was quickly interrupted.
"I will bring him here, thank you!" Gwen told him as she supported Emmett's weight and slowly, they had exited from the quaint hospital room.
"You are welcome, take care, mate." He called out sympathetically.
"Emmett, let's go." She urged him, softly brushing his hair from his eyes.
"No, I can save him, he is still alive." He jerked away from her, eyes wild and unfocused.
"Emmett, listen to me-" Gwen tried to reach for him but he was adamant.
"No, Gwen. He is still alive, he is. He will make it, he has to, he cannot, he just cannot leave me." Emmett shook his head violently at the thought of losing him.
"Em, please." She pleaded, as she tried to stay strong for him but she was on the verge of breaking down.
"I want to see him." He affirmed, turning on his feet to leave.
"Em, this is not the-" Gwen was quick to latch onto his wrist as she stopped him.
"I will save him." Emmett determinedly stated.
"Em, listen to me, listen to me, Emmett." She begged hysterically, she couldn't see him like this.
"No, I need to see him, let me go." He scrunched his face in agony as he freed himself from her hold.
"Emmett, don't. You wouldn't be able to see him." Gwen sighed dejectedly.
"Don't say that he is fine. It is just a little injury, he will be fine." He told her, giving her a nod.
"Em, listen to me-" Gwen followed after him only to be stopped by someone.
"Excuse me, are you with the patient who was just brought in?" A doctor inquired, eyes taking in the dishevelled appearance of Emmett before focussing on Gwen.
"Yes, we are. How is he? Can I see him?" Emmett bombarded him with questions as the man looked deflated.
"We regret to inform you but the patient has succumbed to his injuries. We are extremely sorry for your loss." He announced, noticing the rather stoic stature of the boy upon hearing those words and wordlessly giving them a nod before leaving.
Saturated sunrise, sweltering and setting, in the tangerine-hued Sky, he felt as if he was coal-ash, scorched heat charred away at the valves of his heart, as he grasped at his chest, clutching his t-shirt from the severity of his third-degree burns, whilst sifting through his smooth tresses in despair. This concurring nightmare was prevalent ever since the day, Arthur had shown him his portrait, some three months ago. Three months had ticked, tricked and trimmed his life span, for he was, unfathomably stuck indoors, whilst the Autumnal equinox dismembered into the chilly crisps of white land, Winter dream.
Starkly bleak, sentiently simmering snow enveloped the trees in a sleeping, sentient cocoon covered with fresh dewdrops of December, supplicating a subtle, rejuvenating, relay of romance in the coldest, calamity-calm like tides of the year. Winters were winsomely woeful, a parabole he had no qualms in inventing as he inhaled the wafting incense of pine, nature and frost dwelling over the sanctity of the darkened green leaves, sluggishly strewn together by the slush snow, stuck together throughout the snow flurries of Wintertide, surviving against the blizzards and graupel gusts of sleet and ice as he observed them with brewing thoughts of yore.
Blue, belbeam of lilac hue, his memory tasted like bitter-sour berries of the Tay, his sentimentality sensitively made him feel homesick as if was alienated, abducted during an invasion, left rootless and abandoned on the cobblestone of his sequestrated solitude seams; he wanted to escape, but instead of divulging into the confinement of his thoughts, he picked up his journal and flipped to a new page as he started writing it down.
"Truth, perceptive to individualistic behaviour, is directly affiliated with confrontation without which, whatsoever, it rather becomes desolate, unreliably pathetic, worthless to in adept. We, all, however, entreat it not with a clear conscience as we'd like to think that we necessarily do, for the fear of what might be, makes it durable and withstanding. Unless we tether ourselves to who we are, more significantly, who we can be if we profess to honesty, there might be a hope in us to further our development so to speak. Nevertheless, I do not know how well this would affect me or restore my hopelessness whilst narrowing my chances at a fruitful life because, believe me, self-identification is not as feeble as one might assume beforehand, I'd owe to mine psyche's esteem and omit the truth about who I am and who I want to be, in light of present circumstances that have, so to say, altered my opinion on life, I do not know how to get past this. Past, my past is not something that I regret or would like to redeem if given the chance, metaphorically, yet what I would like to do is observe, observe from an ominous point of view like a writer, engrossed in the ambiguity of their work to even realise the fact of it all being a phantasmagoria, an illusion eliciting hypothetical fantasies adept in fooling the world. Moreover, if I could time travel, hopefully, I'd learn a few things about myself, something that might make me realise my inability to comprehend what I should have, but that is, within my capacity now, so as to comprehend and seek for guidance whensoever required and I am certain that it might prove to be an inspiration for people like me, and by that, I only mean the good adjectives that clearly emphasise on being abnormally insecure and otherworldly whilst the natural world commences without regard. Clearly, I have wasted quite an amount of ink by writing on this blank piece of articulate expression, I do, perhaps, seem to think that it'd help me in telling my story, consecutively, adding to my self reputation and rendering me to some extent, a biographer, perceiving differently, helping sentiently."
Scrutinising his scribbled words fiercely, he was seemingly absorbed in their significant worth, as he thought to consecutively elaborate upon his feelings, furthermore straining his mind to perceive and intercede his past memories, just as his hands had almost instantaneously, and instinctively started to follow his mind's frivolous commands.
"February fires festooned my heart with feverish sparkles of love, like a glittering gaiety gilding over mine psyche's colourless esteem. I was dazed like a demarcated deity, pulled apart from her origins, and helplessly redeemed. We often wonder if we do, perchance, need to be rescued, and released from our arbitrary deeds, but for me, necessarily, it wasn't a choice I had, but an established adventure-escapade that had reeled me in, all because of him, the boy of my dreams. In the month of love, I stumbled, staggered in his direction during the love-revelry only to be left thunderstruck by him. The black bomber jacket was draped around his shoulders elegantly, with raven hair framing his fair face as if he was Adonis, his cheeks were tinted softly in the blush imbued berries of wintertide. He donned a black tight jeans effortlessly with ivory fur boots on that special day of my life, whereas his white shirt underneath, looked to be smeared screened in carnival colours, as he animatedly walked alongside his girl. Amidst the festival lights, his jaded jewels reflected the winter forest, orbs festering, falling for her all over again as if she was his favourite melody, and as they flounced together to wonder and dream, I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed, exceedingly overflowing with emotions, particularly notwithstanding the revival of this foreigner; this heart that had renounced his existence until it saw him, the new transfer student. "
-E.A
Splintering, smattering edges of this newfound vision, he quivered, as his eyes flickered and filtered through the words in nihilistic dubiety as he felt like a wilted, withered flower, shrivelling and sinking into the chasm of sorrowful squalor, as he shivered slightly whilst reminiscing the lucid, late remembrance of his subconsciousness, triggering recollections of a boy he had been too delirious to confuse with his delusions. Sighing, his thumping, heartbeat was wallowing in self-pity, he still struggled to come to terms with his reality. Maybe he was a lunatic, lauded for his lonesomeness and lethargical ways of dealing with remorseful situations, he bristly thought, suddenly being reminded of his diagnosis. He was deplorably pathetic, he affirmed seethingly as he stared poignantly at his hands, loathing himself, all over again.
"Emmett?" She sweetly interrupted him.
"Gwen." He offered her a forced smile as he beckoned her over to sit next to him.
"What are you up to, bud?" She asked, curiously eyeing his journal.
"I am writing, contemplating and occasionally procrastinating, what about you?" He quipped, a bit sarcastically making her chuckle at his choice of words.
"Well, I was working at Fred's, and guess what I have brought with me?" She asked whilst looking for something in her backpack.
"Cotton Candy?" He quirked a brow, observing her actions.
"You are ridiculous, Em. You take the fun out of things, I hate you." Gwen exclaimed, softly nudging him with her shoulder as she pouted.
"Well, considering that you are working in a stall that makes cotton candies, I thought it to be the most common observation." He shrugged, earning a playful glare from the girl.
"It is not just a stall for cotton candy, Em. Did you even listen to me when I was explaining to you about the franchise?" She questioned.
"I apologise for my assumptions but can you be generous enough to hand me the sweet?" Emmett asked with a grin.
"Sure, it is for you, after all." She held it out for him.
"Thank you." He couldn't help but feel famished at thought of devouring the delicacy.
"So, anyway, do you wanna watch a movie with me?" Gwen chirped, as she stretched her limbs with a sigh.
"I would love that but I have a therapeutic session scheduled to take place in about ten minutes from now, so maybe we can watch it afterwards?" He informed her, as he bit into his candy.
"Oh, yes. It slipped from my mind, how is it going by the way?" She asked carefully.
"It is stressful but I feel light-headed at times because, in the span of three months, I have mastered the art of venting, and voicing my feelings to someone else, but I don't know if it is working because I cannot tell it apart, these delusions and these concurring dreams get out of control at times, and I have had two breakdowns in the past month, I am not even certain if it will ever work." He sighed in exasperation.
"Don't say that, Em. At least you are trying to be better, can't you see that? The hardest ordeal for you was to accept that you have a mental illness, and even though, you strived to assert your beliefs, yet somehow, you faltered in your steps due to that one, fleeting doubt surrounding your reality, especially regarding him, didn't you? After Tom's encouragement, you have only perspired and aspired to get to the truth, Emmett so don't you ever say that, do you hear me? You are not going to give up, essentially at this crucial point." Gwen intellectualised offering him a momentary consolation.
"I am aware of the circumstances, Gwen but I am not always conscious enough to realise the truth, and Arthur did say that this is a rare-" He started but was quickly interrupted by the sharp-tongued girl.
"Stop, please. You have to understand Em, that where there is a will, there is always away. You have to be relentlessly inclined towards your ambitions to get to your desired place, don't you? So, this is but a temporary condition, a diagnosis that can be cured if you believe in yourself, Emmett Anderson. Do you believe in yourself?" She interjected.
"I am not-" He tried to say something.
"I will take that as no, but I know that one day, you would exclaim it to be the truth without hesitating. Now, I believe we have wasted quite an amount of time in quarrelling so you better go to Arthur for that therapy session." She ordered him, earning a chuckle from Emmett.
"Thank you, Gwen. I don't know what I would've done without you or Tommy." He told her earnestly.
"Em, you do know that your folks are there for you too?" She reasoned softly.
"I don't want to see them." He declared, bitterly.
"And you don't have to but if you can, for a sliver of a second, feel empathy towards them, then do not let it slip away. Place yourself in their position, Emmett, try to envision yourself as them and you'd know what to do. Don't you think they have endured enough in these past three months? Think about it, okay? But do not strain yourself, we do not need a repeat of that panic attack." She elaborated.
"I will try to, Gwen but I can't promise that." He heaved another sigh at the thought before finishing his candy.
"That is progress, Em. Now, go on and get to it already, I am dying to watch that film with you so you better hasten your pace." She told him off.
"As you say, my lady." Emmett bowed at her mockingly.
"Doofus." She called out.
"Dork."
"Weirdo."
"Pyscho."
"Emmett!" Gwen threw a pillow at him but he was successful in dodging it.
With a laugh, he bolted towards the exit, enthralled by his best friend's tactics, but as he rounded the corner to reach Arthur's office, he skidded to an abrupt stop at the sight of them.
"Emmett?"
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