All Good Things(2)

By: Alannah Carbonneau

I needed to get to her.

I needed her to live.

My feet pounded against the pavement as I sprinted across the lanes the Escalade crossed in its perusal to hit its target. My heart thundered in my chest and my blood roared in my veins as I closed the distance with a speed I hadn't known I was capable of. I made my way around the taxi and reamed on the door handle. All around me there was chaos, but to my surprise, I was unable to focus on any of it. The only thing my mind could comprehend was I needed to save her. I needed to get her out of the cab. I needed her in my arms...where she would be safe.

My heat stopped. Her brown eyes were closed and her face and body was slack. My eyes took in the sight my mind couldn't accept. There was blood smeared against the glass of the window where she hit her head upon impact. A shiny silver laptop was on the floor with her purse and its contents strewed atop it. The taxi was a mess, but I couldn't stop staring at her stoic face and limp body. She looked small in the back seat, as though the thing had swallowed her up. I knelt down into the taxi and reached over for her, unbuckling the seatbelt at her waist. I hooked my arms around her frail body so I could pull her over to my side of the cab. She was not heavy by any means...but her weight was deadweight. She was dead, or unconscious, and I hoped for the driver of the damned Escalade, it was the latter.

I straightened my stance as her head lolled lifelessly against my chest. In the background, I could hear the sirens of the ambulance. I hope they fucking hurried. She needed medical attention ASAP.

From the corner of my eye, I saw the driver of the taxi shift and then someone was beside me, pulling the man from the car. I could see the world moving around me, but nothing could take my attention from the girl in my arms. Nothing, and no one, held so much importance. The thought made my knees weak, but somehow I held onto my strength...for her.


It had been four days. Four fucking awful days. In that time, I had remained at the hospital with the girl. Her name was Olivia LeRoux. She was born and raised in Toronto...Canada. She had gone to university and received her masters in English, only moving to New York two weeks after receiving her diploma. She lived here on the upper west side for the last five months. I met her roommate and best friend, Trisha, who filled me in on her name. The rest of the information I gathered about her had been from the extensive background check I had done.

I knew almost everything there was to know about the girl that had been put on paper. She was smart. She didn't particularly seem to get along with her family, but when her grandfather passed away, he left his inheritance to her. Although it was not nearly enough to live off for the rest of her life, it was obviously the benefactor allowing her to pursue her dreams.

The sound of heels on the tiled floor tore me from my thoughts and I glanced up to see Trisha. She was pretty, but she was wild. She didn't seem like the kind of girl Olivia would choose as her best friend...well, not the Olivia I knew on paper. Trisha was the kind of girl I usually pursued. She was the kind of girl that made everything easy to forget...even I walked away.

Trisha plopped down into the seat beside me. She stared at me with inquisitive eyes as she sipped her coffee. What the hell did she want?

"What are you still doing here?" She asked cuttingly. She made it more then clear, she didn't want me here over the last four days. But, I made it clear...I was not leaving.

"She still hasn't woken up." I replied stiffly. I ran a hand though my hair and growled low under my breath. I hated saying those words. Every time I spoke them aloud, I felt as though I was condemning Olivia to an eternity in a coma.

Trisha studied me. "She wouldn't want you here."

I bristled. What the hell did she know? "I don't care." I did care though. I wanted Olivia to have everything her heart desired. I wanted to be the one to give it to her. Jeez, what the hell happened to me? I hadn't even spoken to her and I was ready to eat out of her fucking palm. It was more than obvious she was a danger to my sanity. I should listen to Trisha. I should leave and forget about her...but I couldn't.

I had tried on countless occasions to leave the hospital. I even made it to the exit on the third night here, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't actually leave. I had been spending the nights in her room, hoping she would open those pretty brown eyes and look at me. Jeez, I couldn't even claim to be pussy-whipped. I dragged my hand through my hair again and sighed as I leaned back in the chair. I felt spent.