Love Me Crazy

24. The River Of Blood

Where was I?

On a bench, somewhere on Lake Michigan.

Who was I?

Just a little girl with a simple heart.

Who was I with?

My loving family. My cheery mother and my hilarious dad. My real dad.

When was I?

Many years ago.

What was I?

Loved.

And….why was I?

Because…I was safe. This feeling reminded me of safety. This time and place made me safe. My parents made me feel safe. My age was safe…I was so innocent then…so naïve.

Everything about this memory made me feel protected and at ease.

It made it so that when I actually had to look at him—his body smeared with blood and scratches—I didn't look away. Tears streamed down my face but I didn't turn from his figure. I didn't know if he was still with me. I told myself he was. I wouldn't believe that he wasn't. Even if he wasn't…he was with me, I was sure of it.

He didn't move though.

And with every second that passed, the memory of the lake and family began to slip through my fingers. I was holding onto an already broken thread.

"Bastion!" I cried out, grabbing his neck. It chilled my fingers down to the bone. Were dead people cold?—No! He wasn't dead! That was stupid…he was only cold and unconscious. No…this couldn't have happened. My life wasn't capable of such events!

"Bastion…oh Bastion," I whimpered, my hands shaking. My mind was trying to stay straight and sane. I only wanted to sleep. I was so tired. Tired of at all.

But how could I be tired when the person I loved most was…was in this state? No, I was only panicked. I wasn't tried.

My quaking fingers neared his horrifically white face. They inched upon his face, trying to warm his waning soul. His scarlet blood was warm against his icy skin. It ran down his cheeks like it were actually healing him. I felt his legs, wondering if they were broken. I couldn't tell. I couldn't tell anything! I was just useless! How could I sit here doing nothing whatsoever? How had I let it come this? Would I just let this go on? Would I let this hell continue?

My face was lying against his chest as my tears spilled over his body. They were hot and instantly turned to pink as they mixed with his blood.

And as I watched as the droplets ran here and there, I noticed that they began to wash the redness from his body. They overcame his body…and they became the cure.

So when I lifted my head slowly, my head caked in his blood, I was with him.

And I wouldn't desert him.

And I wouldn't let him hurt.

"Phone…phone," I sobbed, lunging for my messenger bag. I scrambled throughout; throwing anything that wasn't a phone across the lawn. Finally, the device came into my hands.