The Iceberg Tipping

The rest of the summer flew by, not quite fast enough for Emma’s liking, however. Her mother floated around, blissfully unaware that, as she was creating a new life, she was destroying another. It was unfair, the way Emma felt about this sibling she would soon have. She hated it and wished it dead almost as much as she wished herself dead. Heat was no longer radiating from the sun, no, Emma was the essence of heat.
indent The pond was a constant reminder of who she was and what she wanted, though. The whole of both June and July was filled with these visits to the pond. Sometimes she’d dive in, not feeling like the water was deep enough to drown in. Sometimes she would let herself float on top of the water, watching it become still and glasslike around her. Most of the time she let herself sink, just to see how long she could last before chickening out and pushing back up to the warm surface. One day, she lasted two full minutes before losing her nerve and floating to the surface, it was that day that the sun out shone her and made her skin look an angry pink color.
indent She avoided the pond for a while after that, using the burns instead to torture herself. Her mom glided through the living room with a smile you could feel from a mile away, Emma strode up into her attic room and pinched at the skin, making it sting. Sunburns only last for so long, though, and Emma slowly started compiling matches and lighters instead. Some days her arms would be so blistered that she had no choice but to wear the lightest jacket she owned and sit in front of the air conditioner that was not so conveniently placed in the living room. She felt like she could hardly endure another ‘family talk’ when her mother, once again, made her way into the room.
indent “Emma, honey,” she began, pausing to make sure that she had Emma’s attention. Emma looked up, knowing the issues her mother had with talking and nobody looking at her. “I was wondering if you could run to the store for me, there’s no more popsicles in the fridge.” Lately, Emma’s mother had been craving ice.
indent Slowly, she stood, trying, for once, to avoid the pain in her arms. The living room felt like a football field, with it’s many dangers to dodge and it’s length; the last thing she wanted was for her mom to find out. Finally making it out of the kitchen, she realized that the situation was just getting worse. Emma grabbed a few dollars from the grocery jar and left, without even a goodbye to her mom, heading for her pond.
indent Maybe, she thought, I can’t handle the heat.