THE LONG MOMENT IN TIME cont....

muster. I said a prayer. And another. And Another. I just kept on praying. I asked for the strength to just make a decision on what to do next. Time seemed to move in such slow motion. "This was not happening", I kept telling myself. "Not happening!" The next minute seemed to linger on forever. Every second seemed like 20 minutes. I felt like I had been laying there for about 5 days. I had to do something. The weight of the dead man, both physically and psychologically, was too much for me to bear. The scent of the new car, and the Egyptian musk had suddenly been altered by the smell fresh of blood and gun powder. I panted. Then gasped. Then panted. And gasped again. The lower half of my body was numb and naked. I could feel his blood filling up in my lap, running down my legs, and pooling up around me. He seemed to be getting heavier and heavier. I tried a few times to push him off, but I was too weak, and my hands kept slipping. I was overcome by heat and nausea. I just kept trying to prevent myself from going into shock. The radio was still on. I tried to regain my composure again. I fumbled around for the door handle, but it too was slippery. I cringed. My eyes started to burn, then water. Then burn some more.

At 3:41 am the glare of flashing lights and high beams broke my concentration. I knew instantly from the colors of the lights that it was the police. What would I say? Could I be suspect? Would they believe me? How would I prove that I wasn’t involved? I mustered up enough strength to lift my head a bit. I could only see part of the dash board. It was splattered with blood and bits of tissue. It was surreal. I was horrified. "Gather yourself and get out!" a little voice kept saying. "Get out. You have to get out now," it kept saying. "Right now!", it yelled. And then all of a sudden, everything I had been so afraid of seemed to challenge me all at one. I was overcome by a sense of urgency to get out of the damned car. The lights got brighter. I heard a voice. The amplified voice got louder. And closer. "The pier is closed," echoed through the air. It was 3:58. Again the voice rang out again "The pier is closed!" By the glare of the lights I could tell the squad car was in close proximity. In an instant, my soul dropped. It felt like relief. Consumed with desperation, this was the moment I felt like I had waited years for. I knew the time was now. I braced myself. One hand pushed Roger’s head, the other grabbed my purse, I opened the door and ran straight for the lights. I stumbled a few times, and then fell to my knees. I remember hearing a voices asking me what had happened, but I couldn’t say a word. I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. Then everything went dark.

At 8:55 I woke up in a hospital room. There was a woman sitting on a chair next to me. She said she was with the police department and she had to ask me a few questions, and then I would be free to leave. After a few hours of questioning, they told me I was free to go. They offered me a ride home. I declined. I caught a cab. We took Lake Shore Drive. We drove right pass the spot. The car had been removed. Nothing was left to ‘show’ for what had just happened a few hours ago. And as the scene faded in the distance I realized that the most horrific experience of my life meant nothing to anyone, but me. People walked the street like nothing had ever happened. My life would never be the same, yet I still had to go on. I had to tell my friend, and David. And maybe those closest to me. But I would have to deal with this for the rest of my life. I couldn’t imagine how I would cope. So many thoughts raced through my mind. I saw the cabbie looking at me through the rear view mirror. I looked like shit. I’m sure he wondered what my story was. I flopped into bed at 12:13 pm, on Saturday afternoon. I didn’t wake up until 9:15 Sunday morning.

END.