Emma: A Name Filled With Fear
I was halfway to the street were my car was parked on the other side. By now my mom had walked down the steps and was in the doorway watching me as I walked away, disappointing her one more time. As I reached the curb separating me from the street, waiting to be inside the car that could take me away the memory of when I first got my car flashed through my mind. It was the day of my sixteenth birthday and me and my mom went to the dealership early that morning. I had been pestering her ever since I got my permit to get a punch bug. I thought it was the cutest thing in the world, and I had to have it. All my friends would be so jealous. All of them had their permit, but I was one of the first to get my license because my birthday was in August. Now, not only would I be envied for being able to drive but for also having the cutest car, I thought to myself. So we went to the dealership and before my mom even had a chance at saying no, I threw a fight and got my car. From that day on I felt more freedom then I ever had before. It was my pride procession the thing that could now separate me from the hell that my house was. I wasn’t stuck with having my mom drive me around anymore (the less time the better). Now when I wanted to get out I could, and that meant so much more to me than the actual car itself.
“Emma!!” my screeched lauder then I have ever heard her scream, with a voice more drenched in fear then furry it sent shivers down my spine. Surprised, I slipped out of my memory and turned to see what she was yelling about. Then before I could even flinch I found myself in the middle of the street with a red mustang rushing toward me. The lights flared in my face as I swallowed what was happening.
Then before the car was about to collide with me, I saw my mother’s face. It was so twisted with panic and fear I couldn’t help but feel it. I felt her emotions and her pain and they hurt, they hurt more than any of her words ever had. It was a hurt that I hadn’t felt in so long. Then I realized I was screaming at the top of my lungs. And before I could think anymore about her face-the face that made the pit in my stomach-the darkness took over me. It was the darkness that swallowed me whole and never let me out. The darkness that left my mother’s face haunt my memories. It was that last picture in my head that I would never forget; my mom’s face screaming my name; the name that I loathed and now the name that I feared.
