Emily Is Typing

"Please pick up your phone."

"I’m sorry. Grant just walked in."

"Why didn’t you break up with him last night like you said you would?"

"He brought flowers and said he was sorry."

"I won’t let him hurt you again."

"He won’t."

Emily is typing.

Those three little words were the last thing Claire saw on her phone from Emily that day. If she had picked up her phone, then Emily wouldn’t have texted at the wheel and driven right off a bridge. As soon as she received the heartbreaking news, she knew that she would never forgive herself for not answering her phone.

Claire hesitated to attend her friend’s funeral since she was partially the reason why it was occurring in the first place, but she gave in. As she stood in a corner, ashamed to speak with anyone, Emily’s uncle waddled over to her and introduced himself. As a way to lower the tension, he shared with her a little tradition dating back to colonial times; families would light a candle in the window when someone passed on. These candles were also seen as good news, a beacon to weary travelers, and a sign of friendship. Thinking that this could possibly ease her pain, Claire decided to light a candle in her window every night.

A week had passed, and Claire’s window shone brightly every night. Of course, she made sure the candle didn't burn for too long to avoid burning her little house down. She felt a bit more at peace as she read by the limited, yet radiant, light shortly before falling asleep. It was almost as if Emily was standing there with a flashlight in her hand and a smile on her face. Emily would’ve done just about anything for her “sister”. She even got herself arrested after breaking a window at Claire’s ex-boyfriend’s apartment. Claire was thankful to have someone like Emily. She just wished that she could’ve done similar things in return.

"Claire Bear, I know that this has been difficult for you, but that is no excuse for having a fire hazard right next to your bed."

"I promise that I’ll stop when I feel ready. Please understand."

"You’re going to burn your house down. Stop it."

"Just one more night."

"I said no, Claire."

If one were to ask Emily for her opinion on Claire’s boyfriend Grant, she would bluntly state that he was just as useful as a cockroach, only to change her mind and say that a cockroach was far more useful than him. “He’s so vile and disgusting,” she once said to her mother after failing to smack any sense in Claire’s pretty little head. Some claimed that this girl had murder in her eyes whenever she saw Grant. Others claimed that Grant arranged for the car to go right off the bridge to keep the spunky babe from getting between him and his girl. The police, however, begged to differ after a thorough investigation.

Emily wasn't the only one who disapproved of Grant; Claire's own mother knew that her daughter was smart, but she also knew that she could make better choices. When Claire paid a little visit to her childhood home one day, her mother’s smile vanished when Grant’s name was dropped.

“What does the young man want now?” she asked as nicely as she could.

“He wants me to stop lighting my candle,” Claire said.

“Are you even ready to do so?”

“No, but Grant knows what's best.”

“I don’t think he does, honey. I don’t think he ever did.”

“Mom, I know he hasn’t always been the best person, but I assure you that he has changed.”

The sweet matriarch didn’t buy it one bit. How could she when she once paid a visit and found her baby girl all covered in bruises? Although she never labeled Grant as more useless than a cockroach like Emily did, she had similar views.

“Just promise me one thing, my dear,” she finally said after a short pause. “Don’t let him into your house for the night.”

“Why? Are you afraid that we’re going to get ideas?”

“No, it’s because I found you covered in bruises the very next day after he spent the night. I don’t wish for you to get hurt again.”

Claire had constantly heard warnings from her loved ones, but she was still dying to believe that there was still some good in her man.

“Ok, Mom. I promise not to let him into my house for the night.”

The photo on the counter in the kitchen welcomed Claire when she came home that night. A couple of cuties smiled from the frame with Snapchat flower crowns on their heads. One of the girls had her brown hair tied up in a bun and wore a crop top that said “No Thanks”. The other girl had a set of blond braids and sported some red glasses and a lacey black shirt. Claire tearfully touched the blondie through the glass of the frame, choking out “Emily” in the form of a whisper. Gently, she set it back down and prepared herself for bed.

The microwave was down to the last second when Claire opened the door and waited a bit before grabbing her mug. She plopped in her little peppermint teabag and left it on the counter as she left to light her candle. Even though Grant forbade it, she refused to spend a night without Emily’s spiritual embrace. How else could she sleep, knowing that her friend’s blood was sprinkled on her hands?

As the cutie struggled to pick a book to read, she looked at the last messages she and Emily sent each other. Emily is typing was etched into her mind like an ancient carving in a temple. What was she typing when her eyes shifted away from the road? Was she typing up a clever insult intended for Grant? Did she plan to send a puking face emoji? This kept Claire up at night, and only the candle could offer a sweet lullaby.

Buzz! Buzz!

The purple-cased phone was vibrating over by the mug, sending Claire back to the counter. Her eyes widened as she read the words on the tiny screen.

"I told you NOT to light that candle."

A pounding at the door prevented the nervous girl from texting back. She grabbed the biggest knife that she could find and tiptoed as far away from the door as possible. Just as she was about to dial 911, the window next to the door shattered right before her eyes. A rock rolled over to her feet as a young blonde man in a black polo and jeans climbed through the window. His towering form made some swoon and others shudder.

“Grant? What are you doing?” She kept the knife in a tight grip, refusing to let it go.

“You promised me that you would stop lighting that damn candle.” He slowly and menacingly walked over to his shaken girlfriend.

“I didn’t think that you’d be in the neighborhood. Grant, I can’t sleep peacefully without lighting the candle. The thought of Emily keeps me up at night.”

“Claire,” the brute said as he picked up a photo of the two girls on the counter. “For the last time, you didn’t kill Emily. It was her own damn fault that she chose to text while driving. Besides, she didn’t want us to be together. She refused to believe that people could change. She wanted to keep you all to herself. Emily was selfish.”

Claire backed away slowly to her room and refused to let her guard down as she kept the knife pointed at Grant.

“No, Emily was the most selfless person in the world,” she said with a stern voice that she had never used before. “She got herself arrested for me. She even iced my body for me after you left me covered in bruises, and she missed a job interview as a result. She would do anything for me when I did nothing in return, and lighting that candle every night is my way of making up for it. Unlike her, you never truly cared about me.”

“That’s not true, Claire Bear.” The monster in human skin sent shivers down Claire’s shine as he spoke in a calm manner. “I’ve always cared about you. Things may have gotten out of hands, but I swear that I love you.”

“If you truly love me, then you’d better leave and let me light my candle. Now, get out before I call the cops.”

Before she could shut the door and dial 911, the beast sped over in less than a second and burst straight into the room, knocking Claire into a bookshelf and sending her phone and knife flying in the air. He swiftly snatched up the knife and glared at the young woman as she held her head in pain from hitting it against the bookshelf. She whimpered as the monster in her room flipped the switch off and stomped over to the window.

“Emily never showed me any respect,” he growled, “so I won’t show her any as she rots away in her grave.”

And with that, Grant made the biggest mistake in his life by licking his fingers and snuffing out the flame with them.

Yet another window shattered, but this one wasn't the result of Grant throwing a rock. His scream was louder and far more painful than any scream that he had beaten out of Claire. It was his turn to whimper as he laid pierced with broken glass, gasping as he yanked at one buried deep in his chest. It took a final sigh for him to shut his hateful mouth forever.

Claire screamed as she frantically searched in the dark for her phone. The moonlight crept in through the hole in the window, highlighting the phone on the floor by the bed. As soon as she unlocked it, she once again found herself looking at the last message she had sent her best friend. Her thumb almost tapped back to the home screen when something caught her eye.

Emily is typing.

Claire gasped. How was this possible? Emily had been dead for two weeks.

"I told you that I wouldn't let him hurt you again, Claire."