Every day it’s all he does, it’s what keeps him breathing. The waiting and waiting. It drives him crazy yet keeps him sane because life is full of contradictions like that If it was good news he wanted it now, he wanted it yesterday, but if it was just her turning him down again then he’d rather not be told and live in hope for just a little while longer. After all, false hope is better than no hope at all. Isn’t it? Either way he would have to know, surely she couldn’t keep him waiting forever. Holly couldn’t be that cruel. Could she? He felt so many emotions running through him at the mention of her name. Love was the first thing, no matter what else happened he would always love Holly. Then there was hurt, betrayle, anger, loss and feelings he had never experianced before and couldn’t put a name to. All he knew was that he wanted her to come back more than he wanted to wake up the next morning.
Of course he wouldn’t wake up the next morning. Bang, crach, brain hemmorage. Not that he knew that- but Holly did.
The postcard kept turning over and over in his mind Missing you all did that mean she was missing home or was it just something she wrote out of politeness like ‘wish you were here’. She couldn’t exactally write that she was glad to be away from them all now could she? Enjoying the nightlife she had said but Patrick couldn’t quite get his head around what she had meant by that. He couldn’t see Holly going out clubbing every night, she was far too sensible and more likely to be climbing mountains or something else constructive to pass the time. Or atleast that was the Holly he knew so well and surely she couldn’t have changed that much in a year. Could she? Then there were the kisses: he hoped and prayed that she didn’t write these to everyone. He glanced down at an old mangled love letter she had written to him in Med School. Holly XX. Surely that had to mean something, a sign of effection, anything. He sighed, knowing that he could annalyse this postcard forever and never be any closer to Holly or what she was trying to say. Right now all he wanted was a reply, just one letter was all he was asking for. Surely it wasn’t too much to expect her to find 5 minutes out of her hectic scheduled to put pen to paper and tell me how she felt like he had done all those long months ago.
Of course she could never send him her letters. Crash, bang, didn’t see the car. Such a tradgedy: what a waste of a young life. Not that he knew that- but Holly did.
Holly stopped writing to chew on her pen and thumb lazily through one of the numerous dictionaries that surrounded her. She kept her eyes glued to her lap as she did this, not baring to look at the scene playing infront of her. She loves watching over Patrick but sometimes it was just too unbearable Being all seeing and all knowing wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.She remembers seeing the bikin on the car and knowing that this was the woman was the one who’s appearance she had been dreading. She had never been threatened by Rachel, knowing in her wisdom that she would be dead soon and that he never loved her but with Lara it took all her heavenly will power to stop her putting a thunderbolt through everyone of her perfectly straighted blonde hairs.
So today was no different. She knew exactly what was going to happen and couldn’t bare to see it acted out before her watchfull eyes. So she did what anyone would do in that situation: close her eyes and pretend it isn’t happening. But even though she can’t see there was nothing that could stop her from hearing. The squeal of the breaks ran down her spine like the tears down her face. She tried to concentrate on the letter infront of her but she got to ‘Dear Patrick’ and could do no more, where the words usually flowed she felt nothing but a block. Instead of words tears poured onto the page, expressing her feelings in a way she could never write. Gently she unfolded the yellowing paper and gazed at the words that meant so much to her.
Dear Holly,
I hope you are having a nice time in Germany. Actually, that’s a lie. I hope you are having an awful time so that you can come home and I can see you again. Call me selfish. Since you’ve been gone nothing has been the same, it’s like someone sucked all the joy out of Holby- at least for me. I’m no good at letter writing and even worse at expressing my feelings but you have got to believe me: I miss you.
There has always been something between us. Something special that can never be replaced. I felt it the first day I saw you and I feel it now. I need you. I miss you.Come back. I will always be with you just like you will always be with me. Nothing can ever change what you mean to me.
Love
Patrick XX
Holly cried some more at the memories that this letter held. She had been so happy that she’d got into her car and drove to the airport. As soon as she got there she ran out to try and see when the next plane to England left. She didn’t see the car. Not until it was too late. Too late for her and too late for any hopes she had for a future for her and Patrick. But that was all she had time to remember because she was catapulted back to the present by something Patrick siad. He was talking about his girlfriend: could he mean... In all this time she had never heard him mention her but maybe now he would finally talk about her exsistance. She opened her eyes and tried to listen through her sobs. Somewhere in the mixture of words she heard him mention battle scars and she wondered if he was talking about the secret that they both shared. She looked at her place arms and the long lines of crossing red marks that ran all the way up. Her battle scars. From her battle with herself.
Holly sat there and watched everything play out as she tried to pretend that it was just a film and not really the fate of the man she loved. When he escaped into the arms of this other woman she felt relief mixed with her usual jealousy. Maybe for once she’d seen it wrong, she thought: she hoped. But then she heard it, she heard him refuse a check-up and she knew she’d seen right. Tonight Patrick would die due to his stupid pride. She went back to the letter as she tried to block out the torture that was them speaking to each other. Hearing him say those things to Lara, the things he never said to her, hurt more than anything. It hurt more than loosing him and more than death. She hummed sweet songs to herself and rocked backwards and forwards in the chair but she still couldn’t block out the words that hurt the most.
“Just say your my girl, you’ll always be my girl.”
Patrick blinked in the dazaling daylight, he didn’t understand what he was doing here in this strange place. One moment he was watching Lara walk away and then he was here. Infact, where was here? He saw nothing but empty space and then in the distance a small figure rocking and sobbing on a chair. He sighed as he began to slowly walk towards the girl, hoping she could explain a few things to him. As he got closer and closer to where she sat a few of her features became clearer. Her petit frame, her long brown hair, her shaking shoulders...
“Holly?” He stared at her, shocked, but his presence didn’t seem at all amazing to her. She just looked at him like she’d been expecting him forever, which of course she had. But he didn’t know that. “Holly, how...?” He smiled in confusion, but Holly wasn’t smiling.
“I thought I was your girl.” She gasped between her sobs. Patrick looked panicked, how did she know?
“You are! Well, you were but I didn’t know if you felt anything for me. You never replied to my letter so-“
“Here!” She grabbed handfuls of the letters and flung them at him, hundreds of white envelopes addressed to Patrick, as she screamed herself hoarse. “Have the stupid things!” He picked up the letters and slowly opened them one by one.
Dear Patrick,
Te amo
Holly XX
Dear Patrick,
Ich liebe dich
Holly XX
Dear Patrick,
Je t'aime
Holly XX
When he got half way down the pile he looked up at Holly in complete confusion.
“I don’t understand Hol. You know I can’t speak any other language.
“Keep reading.” She insisted.
Dear Patrick,
Eu te amo
Holly XX
Dear Patrick,
Ik houd van u
Holly XX
Dear Patrick,
??? ?????
Holly XX
Dear Patrick,
? ????? ???
Holly XX
Dear Patrick,
I love you
Holly XX
“There. Those are my letters.”
“Why didn’t you send them to me? Or at least the one in English.” Patrick grinned but Holly just looked blank.
“Look.” She said as she pulled back one of the white curtains that covered the window that separated them from the real world. The scene showed Lara crying.
“Lara…” Patrick breathed. “But how? I don’t understand.”
“She’s upset. You want to help her, yes?”
“Of course I do.” He yelled as he walked towards the window, only to be thrown back again by the unbreakable glass.
“Now you know how I feel. Seeing it all and wanting to do something but never being able to. You understand?” Patrick shook his head.
“There are times when I really don’t get you miles.”
“Feeling’s mutual.” She sighed. “You’re dead Patrick.” He stared and burst out laughing.
“Dead, Hol?”
“Yes Patrick, dead. The sooner you get your head around this the easier it will be.” He shook his head a few times, looked around, glanced at Lara and then stared back at Holly.
“Okay, we’re dead. I get that. What do we do now?”
“Spend the rest of eternity together.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“Ask me in a few hundred years.” She grinned.