© Carey Decevito, 2016

Chapter 4

I've never run away from anything or anyone so damn fast in my entire life.

When my eyes fell upon Hannah's face, a wealth of emotions overwhelmed me.  Fear for her life, empathy for what she and her family were going through, sadness for the loss and guilt.

Guilt for not being able to do more to save her husband.

Guilt for not stopping right away when I knew I'd seen something.

Guilt...guilt...guilt!

Was this how I was destined to live my entire life?  Feeling guilty for shit that I wasn't responsible for, for things that were out of my control?

I snorted.

Funny how one can rationalize how they should and shouldn't feel yet they can't seem to control the end result.

I sat in my car, pondering my reasons for running, for caring.  Finding an answer as to why I seem to end up in situations where I'm forced to relive my past.

I looked up.

Had I been sitting in my car that long?

Mr. and Mrs. Donner walked out of the hospital's front entrance with Anne turning to and collapsing into her husband.  Her shaking shoulders indicated proof to her sobbing.  He wrapped himself around her, kissing her hair.  It was an intimate moment that shouldn't have been shared but there I was taking it all in, wishing that I had a pillar of strength at my side.

With Candace gone, I would never have that kind of support.

Hannah won't have it either.

I watched as Hannah's parents walked toward the parking lot and instead of starting my car to leave, I took the keys out of the ignition and jiggled them in my hands.

I could forget sleeping for tonight.  Too much had happened within the last twenty-four hours to ensure that.

With a sudden surge of determination, I got out of the car, locked it and marched my way toward the building.  Visiting hours were over but I made like I knew where I was heading and no one bothered to stop me.  There were perks to a busy night.

Despite my nerves, something filled me with resolve during my earlier pondering session in the car.

Hannah and I had suffered similar fates.  It somehow bonded us, it's hard to explain.

I walked through her room's doorway and instead of being consumed with old memories this time I forced my brain to remain on the present, to focus on the fact that this wasn't about me—it was about Hannah.

I stood by her bed, looking down at her battered body.

A memory flashed in my mind.  The image of those petrified eyes of hers that had looked at me, the sarcasm that had come out of her mouth despite her predicament and pain, the trust she had put in me to stay with her.

Would she remember this night when she woke up?

For her sake and from personal experience, part of me hoped that she didn't.

But that would mean she wouldn't know who you are.  Somehow, the thought of that possibility saddened me.

"I've got to be losing it," I said aloud.  "Hannah, if you can hear me, I'm still here."  I allowed my fingers to skim the tips of hers before I sat down on the chair next to her bed.  "Just like I promised."