She sat perfectly still, transfixed by the chipped paint covering the concrete wall of the parking garage just beyond her windshield. As she stared, the wall seemed to advance and retreat with each labored breadth; fuzzy through the mist of pain on each inhalation, focusing again to sharp clarity on the exhale. She was aware of her injuries. At the very least, she had a few broken ribs, a fractured wrist, a concusion, abrasions, lacerations, possible punctured lung and internal bleeding. The bruising was extensive and would cover most of her body. Yes, she knew the severity of her situation and still she made no further attempt to evade the inevitable. She had been sitting there for quite a long while, overwhelmed by disappointment and death, slowly consumed by despair and pain. Anger would have served her better. It might have spurred her will to live, firing the adrenaline to keep her going, but she just didn't have it in her. Now shock threatened to take her consciousness.

How had it come to this? She had never understood their awkward friendship. Had never understood what he saw in her or why he enjoyed her company. But she had come to depend on the relationship, so that she had turned to him in this moment of crisis. That he had not understood nor responded to her plea had come as a complete shock. With a single thoughtless statement he had severed her lifeline, plunging her into an abyss she no longer had the strength to climb out of. As consciousness left her, she flashed back over the events that had followed in the wake of their unexpected friendship.

Life had been ugly and difficult most of her years. At 14, she fled to escape what she naively thought was an abusive home, running away to the city streets only to find unimaginable squalor and violence. She had survived, doing things she would later try to forget. Now she had a home, a job and an education. At 32, she had achieved what had once been a dream - a stable, normal life in a not-quite-affluent suburb of a metropolitan city. And, although she was by nature a loner, she also had a wide and varied circle of acquaintances and a full social life.

That stability was rocked in an entirely new way the day she met him. She had parked in this same garage that morning. Late for work and in a hurry, she had planned to dash into the coffee shop just long enough to grab a cappuccino. Sprinting in the shop's back door, she had collided with him, displaying the grace and agility of a true klutz. He caught her easily, released a lazy smile, and waved away her apology. They shared cappuccino, coffee cake and conversation for the next hour. The friendship had suddenly and surprisingly sprung up between them that day. So too began an unrequited crush on him which she had kept hidden ever since.

Their friendship was as amazing in its uniqueness as it was in its comfortableness. They were so very different and yet so utterly compatible. They spoke to each other frequently, sharing the various aspects of their lives. They got together often, exploring all that the city and surrounding countryside had to offer, from the mundane to the outrageous. He introduced her to playing pool and rollerblading. She introduced him to bowling and Tai Chi. Though they remained only friends, they were so like the quintessential "perfect couple" that her girlfriends constantly assumed that they were dating.

"Hey Jen, some of us girls are going clubbing tonight. Want to join us?" Leah queried, casually hanging over the half wall that separated their work cubes. "Or have you got a date with him again?"

"We're not dating. Besides he's going out with someone special tonight," she replied wondering why she bothered to explain yet again. "I'd love to hang out with the group. What's the plan?"

"We'll meet at Tricia's place about 8:00 pm" Leah said. Then, with a quick look around, she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "After that we're heading over to Cedar Grove."

Cedar Grove was the nickname of the ghetto on the west side of the city. It was the latest craze for groups of big city professionals to "dress down and hang out in the Grove." The thrill of taking a walk on the wilder, seedier side was a trendy aphrodisiac to the up and coming. Everyone in their social circle was doing it.

"Hey, I'm running late," she said to Leah from her cell phone while trying to negotiate a lane change in preparation for merging onto the freeway. "I'll just meet you guys there."

She made it to the convenience store a short block away from the club when she came face to face with the past she had worked so hard to forget. His name was Malcolm Edward Cole but everyone had called him Pistol since his early teen years when he'd done time for pistol-whipping an elderly neighbor. He had been the first person she had spoken to after getting off the bus in the big city. He'd had a sleazy type of charm and, at 14, she had not been worldly enough to be wary of it. She hadn't known about the city's predators. He drew her in with food, shelter and attention. Then he sold her virginity to the highest bidder. She had been one of his most profitable girls until she had disappeared one night with the cash take from a private party. Now, he would have his revenge.

"Well, well. It's been a long time, baby" he hissed into her ear from behind as he trapped her between her car and the trash dumpster beside the store. An immediate fear gripped her. She had no where to run, no one to help her. With the first punch, her fear became reality, and she thought only of survival. Once Pistol had finished, leaving her lying in filth behind the dumpster, a faint glimmer of hope beckoned to her. A single thought began to crystallize giving her incentive to fight for life. She had a friend. This time she was not alone.

It seemed to take her hours to drag herself back to the car. She drove slowly, not able to move very much or very fast. She made it as far as the garage around the corner from his place, the one behind the coffee shop. Summoning what little strength of will and body remained, she called him.

"Hello?" he answered in a distracted tone.

"Hey guy. I'm sorry to bother you," she said in a rush, trying to sound normal, "but can you meet me at the coffeehouse?"

"Uhh. I've got company," he replied. "Let's get together tomorrow some time. I'll call you."

Stunned, she automatically stammered out, "S-sure."

Her self-reliant life had not prepared her to ask for help; she just didn't know how. And he was not prepared to hear what was not direct. Too distracted by life, as he was by his visitor this night, to realize her need of him. Now, as in the past, he was unable to read between the lines. He did not notice the message hidden in her rushed, strained voice or the late hour. So he had, with a single unconsidered statement, severed her lifeline. The shock won, and as the phone landed on the floor, she slipped into unconsciousness.

Workers from the coffee shop found her at the end of their shift. By then she hovered very near the brink of death.

He had heard the sound of the siren in the background, muted by the walls of his condo. But now, as he walked his date to her car, the strident sound seemed ominous in its intensity. The sound was much too close for comfort. After making sure she was buckled in and kissing her good-bye, he hastily retreated back to the relative quiet of his home. As he stood in his third story window watching, the ambulance sped from the area, the lights and siren fading into the night. There was relief in the silence that followed the departure. It was a short-lived respite. The phone rang, shattering the silence. The melodic electronic ring gave no hint of the horror the call would bring.

"Hello. This is Officer Jaimison with Metro PD. There's been an accident," said the dissembodied voice on the other end of the phone. "Your number was the last number dialed from the cell phone at the scene. May I ask your name sir?"

She could hear muted hospital sounds in the background. She forced her mind to concentrate. Now, with effort, she could hear the sound of his voice, she felt the touch of her hand in his. She remembered that his voice and touch had also been there in the emergency room. It had been there again after the surgery. It had continually reached out and pulled her back from the void. With an effort, she opened her eyes and focused on his face. She could see the tear as it slowly streaked down his cheek and she knew once again that she was not alone. Her friend was here and he would help her survive.