Death on the Web

Emma wiped a tear that spilled down her cheek. She was only fifteen years old at the time of the accident, a child who was carefree and full of youthful expectations for the future. It was cruel to think that a thirteen year old boy who took his father’s car for a joy ride, could take away her dreams and ambitions forever. On that fateful night as she grabbed the crisp packet and closed the boot, the boy lost control of the car and smashed into her legs, crushing them between his bonnet and the boot of her parents’ car.

An eyewitness said that at the moment of impact, the boy’s face turned white and he bawled like a baby. The boy admitted later, that his tears were not from causing injury to her but from the fear of being caught. His father loved the car and would be very angry at him for crashing it. The court decided that it was an accident and as a young offender, he could only be cautioned. The boy could carry on with his life in the usual way whereas, Emma was left with nothing, not even a glimmer of hope that she would ever walk again let alone the very essence of her life, dance. 

Here she was now; twenty years later, single, living in a small flat above a shoe shop in the centre of town and working in a supermarket just a street away. Her days normally started well, because the lift that barely had the space to fit the wheelchair, enabled her to get down to the ground floor but there was one occasion when it was broken and the shopkeeper had to carry her down the stairs. Emma found the experience humiliating and found it difficult to come to terms with the possibility that there could be times when she would need help. 

Emma was living alone because she made a conscious decision to leave home upon reaching adulthood. Emma’s parents begged her not to go but she felt that it was necessary because they were suffocating her with their love. She found them overwhelming and unbearable to live with. Their faces full of pity every time they looked at her. Emma wanted to prove not only to her parents but to herself as well that she could lead an independent life without the constant reminder that she is a cripple. 

The buzzing sound of her mobile phone distracted her bleak thoughts and she picked it up out of curiosity. Emma wondered who could be texting her at that time of the morning? She saw that it was a notification from a new social network, ‘Sanctuary’. For some unknown reason, in a moment of madness, she had decided to join the group a few months ago and forgot all about it until now. Pressing the button to open the site, she was intrigued to see that it was an invite from a person called Barry Dunmore, who claimed to have been in her year at school. Scrolling down, she came to an old photograph. It was instantly familiar to her. Twenty five pupils had been put into rows and made to smile for the camera. In the centre sat a balding, grey haired teacher, whose tie was slightly off centre. It made Emma smirk as she said, ‘Mr. Robins.’ This was a photograph of her tutor group at the start of the year; coincidentally she had just turned fifteen at that time.

Her eyes were drawn to a boy on the back row of the photograph who was not smiling. He was very large with rosy cheeks that were noticeable even at that distance where he was sitting. Barry Dunmore; the fat sweaty kid who everyone laughed at. Scrolling back to read the message, she was surprised to see that her name was amongst just four other individuals to be invited to a reunion. They were all asked to stay at his house in Dorset for a weekend. 

Emma tapped the phone in the palm of her hand and looked around the room which was basic and bare, ironically reflecting her life. Since that fateful night, she had lost contact with everyone outside of her family. After the accident, her time was spent going back and forth to the hospital for the countless operations and then for tedious physiotherapy sessions. When Emma was well enough to go back to school, her parents thought it would be best for her to be tutored at home, however, she could not focus on the lessons and as a result failed to pass her exams. The only job that she could find was to work behind the till at a supermarket. She met lots of people and work mates but no one that she could call a friend and always returned to an empty flat.

Once more she gazed up at the framed letter and then without any more hesitation pressed the screen to accept the invite.

‘Why not?’ she said to herself. ‘Perhaps I might even find a little excitement.’