The Main Character

Emma walks home at a steady pace hours after the study hall closes. A brush of orange paints the skyline as the sun is slowly gets dimmer. The only noise coming from her ear buds and whisking her away from the world. The man looms in the shadows and sees a young girl alone: who can’t call for help. The perfect victim to fall beneath his blade. Not the first, and certainly not the last. A jolt back to reality makes her stop – glancing down at the knife sharply pointing towards her. ‘Watch out, little girl! Unless you want to stick around and see this beauty in action,’ he grumbles mockingly. He waves the blade around, playing an upper hand to incite fear. The light of the sun further descending illuminates the intricate design of the powerful blade. Emma notices this design but knows very little about what it can do exactly. She has no fear of death. On the contrary, she romanticises and welcomes death with open arms and an open heart, like greeting an old friend she’s never met. The smile on his face is broad and cunning, his lips curl up in delight as he holds the knife in a tight grip, still playfully gliding it through the air in front of Emma’s face. ‘Okay, great. Get on with it!’ Emma states. She narrows her eyes as she says, ‘You say you want to kill me: go ahead.’ A hint of challenge is left hanging in the air between them. Her smile slowly morphs and mirrors the smile he had when flaunting his power over her. The colour of his face drains almost as quickly as the sun, the moon now illuminating them with surrounding streetlights. His hand comes to a sudden halt. The disbelief that she agrees to his plan. No fight, no struggle? As simple as that! But it can’t be this simple, can it? He wonders how the world hurt this child that she will make a choice to give it all up. A first in all his murderous sprees. Emma grabs the man’s blade; both sharing the grip. Inching it closer to her body. The sweet taste of death sits on her tongue. A tang of finally finding her home. ‘Hurry up! I haven’t got all day.’ she glares daggers into his eyes. ‘The sun decides to finish its job before you, buddy. Do it.’ The blade inches closer and closer as the man struggles to create a distance between them. ‘Tell me, sweetheart. I can’t let you do this to yourself. I thought you were a vulnerable girl, an easy kill. This is personal to you. Why?’ He blurts out quickly and quite loudly. They are both grasping the blade relentlessly. His breath becomes shaky as the paranoia sinks in, glancing over his shoulders at the closest homes with their curtains drawn. Silence follows. No commotion arises and the man releases the breath he’s been holding. She lets go of the knife as she starts tearing up, clearly trying to suppress her vulnerable side from crying. The man takes a step back and creates some distance. Some much needed distance. ‘I am sick of my family neglecting me. Ignoring my very existence. They are self-obsessed and degrading. You think they care I’m not home yet?’ she chuckles in painful spite of what that life looks like. To feel love from her family. ‘That’s why I’m here alone on the streets. Avoiding them. So, you threaten to kill me? Please finish me off, it’s a more permanent solution of avoidance than my walks can ever achieve. I wish…’ He cuts her off before she can finish. ‘Not in the knife’s presence.’ He spits while gritting his teeth. His eyes trail away from Emma’s gaze, thoughts ruminating in his mind. Having a similar past. He turns the blade over in his hands, remembering how he never found closure and became a murderous monster of the night. The memory of where she’s seen the blade before comes flooding back. A legend of a knife that makes your wishes real. She didn’t realise they were real. ‘. Maybe there’s a way to disconnect me from my family without having to kill me completely. Find a way to give me a second chance at life? You know, with the knife and all.’ ‘What is wrong with you?!’ a shriek escapes him before he can stop himself. He checks the nearby houses once again. Again silence, except Emma sighing; rolling her eyes to the side. ‘Yes, keep up grandpa. I’m not wasting time explaining this again. Stop looking around, these people clearly care as much as my parents do. Leave it be!’ Emma edges closer and takes control of the knife in a swift movement. The knife leaves her chest a crimson colour, Emma’s limp body slumping to the ground. The man stands over her trembling, his own eyes welling up. The pain in his body in conflict with the urgency that he has to flee. Flee and leave her be or save her life? A few steps away, a few steps back. Pacing back and forth between his options. The man lowers himself to Emma’s level. Slowly slicing the layers of his wrist until he can see the blood drip out, gritting his teeth. He drips he’s own blood on the knife and sinks it into her still body, mumbling ‘I wish your blood will separate and accept mine. I wish to take your suffering away.’ His tears trickling down his cheeks uncontrollably. He searches for her identification while calling an ambulance. He can’t leave her in this state but can’t stick around for the show either. Emma wakes the next morning in a hospital bed. The blinding light of the sun reflecting off the blank walls. The beginning of a new day, and what strangely feels like a new life. The heart rate monitor beeps steadily, picking up the pace when Emma launches herself out of bed, in search of the closest mirror. The mirror reflects a younger female version of the last face she has seen. ‘Well, looks like the old man did it.’ She turns her head to see her jawline closely. ‘I wouldn’t mind keeping this career in the family, more people to save from their blood tyrant parents.’ Emma walks out on a mission to find a knife just as powerful to continue the man’s good work.