Put Your Arms Around Me

Prologue

 

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The tears were still wet in her eyes as she packed up her things into her car. He wasn't here to see this, thank god, that'd be unbearable. Finally, with many backward glances she headed out onto the dark highway. It was night already; she'd waited too long to leave. There was so much to pack, so many memories still left. She was on her way now. Wasn't she the one to make the suggestion? But, dammit, things went wrong. He wasn't supposed to agree. She needed to hear his love not his good-byes. She said it out of anger and regretted it as she knew she would as soon as the words were out.

She didn't need this, not now. In a few hours, she would be home where she could go to her old room and cry in peace. Until then, she had to stay put together, calm and collected. Her mind made the lane changes automatically. She'd driven on this highway hundreds of times since first moving here with him into his house, which later became theirs. Don't go there, she told her mind but it went back to him anyway.

Went back through all the parts he played in her life, through the good and bad times with clarity and detail like a movie projector. Water filled her eyes as she watched them all, every single one. Not a one forgotten. Of the good times, she'd tried to keep for remembrance. The bad times had just stayed imprinted there. It seemed they filed themselves away.

Cars sped pass her on the highway even as her mind concentrated on him. The highway was changing, construction up ahead. Her blurry eyes didn't see the signs clearly. Her distracted mind didn't register their meanings. Only her body felt the physical pain as she crashed added to the emotional hurt in her heart.


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The hospital gave one the feeling of too much happiness trying to cover the pain and death that was somewhat being uncovered by every patient who entered.

Amy Foss ran through its stark white halls, her short strawberry blonde hair flapping as much as it would allow. After approaching a nurse's station, she walked grief stricken into her best friend's room. She pulled the metal chair closer to the bed. She wanted to grip her friend's hand to reassure, or be reassured, everything was going to be okay.

The door opened and the doctor stood in the doorway, talking to himself while jotting down notes. "Robyn Heart-hit to the head resulting in concussion. Ribs crushed. Left side of face completely ruined by glass; plastic surgery suggested."

Amy looked at Robyn's face, which was indeed ruined by obviously cut glass. Red blistering cuts controlled half of a once beautiful face. How could the girl lying here in this bed who was now a plastic surgery case, possibly be the same person as the winner of beauty pageants and new found model who'd had the most envious natural perfection. Could fate be so cruel? She must have gasped although the room was deathly quiet, because the doctor looked up and came in the room.

"Oh, someone's in here," The doctor uttered, "I didn't realize anyone was here but her." He nodded his head toward the form lying under the white sheet.

Amy shrugged him off. He was either new or an asshole. Neither mattered; he was not important to her not with Robyn on the doorstep of death.

"Uh, are you family?" He looked around nervously. "Only family is allowed in here."

"A best friend is family." She repositioned strands of Robin's long reddish brown hair to cover the scarlet streaks. Under thin layers a square bandage stayed tapped to the scalp.

"We had to cut the hair," The doctor answered her puzzled expression, "When we found a shard of glass already lodged in the brain we operated immediately."

Amy unwillingly pictured his description and shivered.

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From deep in the abyss in her mind, Robyn felt the hand on her hair and linked the familiar feeling to Howie. She tried to clasp the hand holding hers but she couldn't find the strength and fell back further in the abyss with one thought as she slipped- Howie, please . . .

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