Emerson watched with wide eyes as the truck slammed into the little car. It was if it was done in slow motion and then everything snapped back into reality.

On her, feet she was sprinting. She could still hear the sounds of metal on metal, scraping. The tiny black car was now on it's side, being pushed down the road.

The boy was already jumping onto the hood of the truck, his fist making contact with the glass windshield. It instantly cracked open, showing the driver in snow like glass.

The driver of the truck had green hair and pale blue eyes. He was staring right at Emerson with a sickening smile, and then the purple haired boy snapped his neck.

Emerson tore open the car doors, tears of red hot anger were falling down her face.

"Martin! Ethan!" She shouted, trying to free their bodies from the car.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, and she whipped around. Her eyes met the purple boy's light blue ones.

"Get off me!" She screamed at him, shoving him away.

"They're already dead," he said quietly, his piercing eyes calculating hers. 

But Emerson was already on the other side of the car. She ignored the blood stained glass littering the ground, as she opened the passenger side door. Struggling to drag Ethan's limp body out, the other boy sighed.

"I told you, he's already dead," he muttered, pushing her out of the way and dragging the boy out.

"Ethan?" She whispered, bending down to press her ear to his chest.

Nothing.

"He's dead, I'm sorry," The boy whispered, bending down next to the girl.

"You did this! This is all you're fault!" Emerson roared, turning towards him as tears streamed down her face.

"Look, this is not my fault. I told you you were in danger, and did you listen? No! Then I had to worry about your safety because you kept running back over here. If I didn't have to worry about you and your stubbornness no one would be dead right now!" He said, pointing to the scene around him.

Emerson's face conflicted with rage and guilt, and she let out a pained sob. Falling to her knees, she cradled her brother's body in her arms.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that," the boy muttered, kneeling down next to her.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, and she wanted to hurt him. Hurt him for dragging her into this mess, hurt him for what happened to her brother, and hurt him for trying to comfort her when it was her fault.

On instinct, upon the human contact, she let out an anguished scream. Her fists were balled, and the boy's arm flew back. He let out a yelp of surprise or pain, she didn't know, and his arm snapped in two.

Emerson gasped in horror, staring at her hands.

"What is wrong with me?" She whispered, tears falling down her face.

She stared at Ethan's face, and she whispered, "Please let this be a dream."

"Wake up!" She shouted, at both herself and her brother. She kept repeating it, over and over and over.    

The other boy, writhing in pain, whispered faintly, "The man's still alive."

Emerson turned back towards the car, and upon seeing Martin's extended hand, rushed over. She dragged him out immediately, finding strength she didn't have before.

"Martin? Martin!" She shouted.

"I'm fine," he breathed out. His breath was quick and shallow.

Emerson pressed her hands on his chest, "Come on, stay with me." She pleaded.

And eventually his breathing became even, and his nose stopped bleeding. The scraps and scratches that traced up and down his body healed.

And all that was left was a pain free man laying in a girl's arms. The girl staggered up. She felt something warm trickle down her face, and her hands met her nose; blood.

The purple haired boy stared up at her in shock just as Emerson's eyes rolled back into her head. 

~*~*~*~*

"We are gathered here today to celebrate the life and death of Ethan Robert Paige....." the priest spoke.

Emerson stared out blankly out the window. Martin was sitting next to her, and her parents were on her left crying. Either for show or for real sadness Emerson didn't know.

"Emerson. Emerson! Emerson!" Her parents hissed.

Her head snapped up to met their angered gaze.

"Emerson, would you like to say a few words about your brother?" The priest asked. 

"I need some fresh air," she said, running out of the church. Her eyes refilling with tears.

The boom of her hands meeting the wooden french front doors, slamming them open, echoed throughout the church.

Once outside, she let out a shaky breath as she sobbed into her hands. It'd been two weeks since the car wreck, two weeks of therapists and psychologists telling her she'd made it all up. She was going insane, there never was a boy with purple hair, or a truck in the wreck. Their car spun out of control and smacked a tree, killing her brother.

But that wasn't the case, was it?

Emerson shuttered, embracing the cold freezing her bones.

"Emerson?" A familiar boy's voice called out.

"Charlie?" She breathed out, turning around.

"I'm so sorry about your brother, that's just--sucks," he finished shaking his head.

"Yeah, it does," she said numbly.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He whispered, walking closer towards her.

"No."

"Okay then," he muttered awkwardly, nodding his head like he didn't know what to say next. 

"What did you want to tell me?" She asked abruptly, meeting his gaze.

"Oh that, um...we can't talk here," he said, gently taking her arm and leading her away from the church.

~*~*~*~*~ 

Emerson was riding on the aircycle with Charlie, when she saw something below her.

"Wait--stop!" She shouted, getting a feeling of deja vu.

"Emerson? What's wrong?" Charlie asked immediately once they were on the ground, but she'd already bolted for the alleyways. 

She was panting as she took the many twists and turns until she found what she was looking for.

There, in the center of the alley way, with her back towards her, stood a girl with electric blue hair and mocha skin.

"Tamara?" Emerson called out.

A/N: Is it Tamara? Or is it not?

Ethan's death?

Purple haired boy?

Emerson?????

Martin?

How about Charlie?

The man in the truck?

Thanks for reading!!!!

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~Tapqueen101