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Regrets

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She’s sitting there now like she knew she would. Wishing, hoping that it didn’t have to be this way. Knowing things won’t change but daring to believe they will. After all it was her mistake why shouldn’t she take responsibility for her actions. If she had only listened to her friends, they had told her not too more times than she could count.
The cold seeped deep down to her bones. It wasn’t painful yet but she hugged her legs and curled up into a ball anyway. Her heavy eyelids slipped closed. Her rigid pose was slowly loosening but she wasn’t relaxing, exhaustion was taking over and she was slowly drifting off. The damp sand beneath her was oddly comforting. The ocean sung her a lullaby as she tried to forget what she had done.
Then she heard them, footsteps softly crunching the sand beneath them that were getting closer. A part of her screamed at her to run but her body wouldn’t respond. Her limp limbs barely had the energy to shove the person away little lone escape. She was pulled into someone’s arms. A blanket around her shoulders prevented the light sprinkle of rain from soaking her further.
“Stay with me,” a voice crooned.
The voice was familiar. She no longer resisted being pulled back and just relaxed into his chest too exhausted to do anything else.
“So tiered...” Her voice croaked barely more than a whisper. A soft hand stroked her face.
“I know but you have to stay awake. I know what you’ve done.” He reasoned.
She jerked in his arms. Fearing what he knew. Hot tears welled in her eyes but she held them back fearing that if she cried she wouldn’t be able to stop them pouring down.
“No, you have to go you can’t see this,” she urged.
“Just hang on, an ambulance is on its way,” he whispered.
She couldn’t hold the tears back any longer. They poured down her face. She could tell she didn’t have much time left. She wiped beads of sweat from her forehead her hands shaking all the while. She took a deep breath. She would have described it as the breath getting stuck on the way out and the only thing being left to come back out was her stomach. He offered her a water bottle. She washed the taste but didn’t swallow.
“I don’t want to die,” she sobbed.
He let her ruin his shirt with her salty tears. He just sat there with her waiting for the ambulance. Stroking her hair and crooning words of comfort. The ambulance came and after he carried her limp body off the beach she was rushed off. He wasn’t allowed to follow so he sat there on the sand. As if the rain could wash away the haunting memories. He knew that there was a very slim chance of her surviving. He’d done all he could.
He took a deep breath and picked up her purse that had been wedged in the sand. He would take it home and give it back to her if she survived. He would keep the purse safe for her and everything in it, all but the empty bottle of Tylenol that had been full that morning, which he chucked into the metal bin on the way back to his car.



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