waiting for the world to end

Emily walked all the way to Rosco's house breathing the fresh fall air as if she couldn't get enough of it. She tried to think of homemade apple pie. Hey rides to the pumpkin patch. She didn't want to think about what she felt or how she needed to remember everything. Why couldn't she? Was there a reason?

This thought was making her scratch her arms. Had it made her feel this way before? Was that the why she did certain things? No, no, she couldn't blame it on that. There was a reason. A different reason when she wanted to cut herself. It was a lot like masturbating. She was comfortable with that. Not something she had to do all the time. Just every once in while.

Maybe she had an answer for that. Maybe it was Crystal who had all the answers. That was it. She knew. She took care of that, didn't she?

Of course, there was Rachel at Rosco's. God, they sounded so perfect together, Rachel and Rosco. Why didn't they just go with Rachel and Ross from Friends and be done with it, Emily thought as she waited there at the door for Rosco.

"No, I don't want to come in." She promised. They could just stand out in the damp air. It was almost cold. "I just want to tell you something."

"I don't want to hear it," Rosco didn't even close the front door behind him. "I don't care, anymore. I just think its time, you, to stop bothering me, because its over. I'm done with you."

Emily felt as if his eyes looked straight through her. She guessed he knew, but that wasn't what this was about. She wanted him to know what had just happened. How she'd almost remember what had happened in the basement. It was cold chill fading through her. She thought if she said it out loud then she might remember something else. She might. Maybe he was was there to listen. But it was too late. Just too late.

She nodded. He was right. It was true. The were done. He deserved some thing better. So much better than what she could ever give him.

Emily didn't say another word. She walked away then into the street. Not sure where she was going nor what to do. If there had been an interstate nearby she would have walked into it. As it was, just an empty street.

Emily walked on for a few more blocks. It was getting colder. Her sweater felt thinner. Her arms itched more. What did this mean? What was she supposed to do now? This secret had to be buried somewhere else instead of inside her.