If Only She'd Loved Him

Saturday 8:11 pm

Megan sank further down the tree.  The bleeding had slowed, but when she tried to stand up, her head danced like a carousel.  Up and down, round and round, she leaned over and threw up.  Sweat covered her face, dripped down her cheeks.  She rolled on her back, moaning in the leaves.  Head pressed to the grass, she felt the ground shake.  Something was coming towards her.  She raised up her head, tried to climb to her knees, but fell back.  All she could do was crawl.  So she crawled.  Her right hand held her hurt shoulder.  Her left hand was forced to support the top half of her body.  Her knees scrabbled along the ground.  She needed shelter, someplace to hide.  How was Erik tracking her?  He couldn't see her, could he?  She tried to stand up again, but her head swelled in protest.  She slid back to the ground.  In front of her was a thick packet of brush, centered between two trees.  She crawled inside, huddling herself into a ball.  She had no energy left.  The heat, the blood, the life in her was draining away.  The noise behind her was getting louder, but it didn't sound like footsteps.  Something was dragging itself along the ground.  Unable to do anything but lie still, Megan looked up.  The clouds were starting to part.  She saw a flicker of a star, and there, towards the edge of a cloud, the moon fought to shine. 

At last, she could see her hands in front of her.  Ghostly white, her right hand shook as she raised it to her face.  The shadows on it were made of blood, but there was more. If she pulled it closer, Megan could see the veins on her hand, the bones jutting up through.  She moved her fingers.  The pale tips of her fingernails shone out like crescent moons.  The ridges on her knuckles wrinkled as she straightened them.  How amazing.  This was her hand, her beautiful hand.  Megan touched her cheek with her fingers.  So soft.  The cold didn't bother her anymore.  All Megan saw was the beauty in her hand.  She wanted to cry out:  This, this is a miracle.  My hand is a miracle!  I am a miracle. But the noise was right in front of her.  She raised up her head.  If I'm going to die, I'm going to die looking up, not down. 

The clouds parted, freeing the moon.  Caught in that light, the tip of the gun glinted through the leaves.  Erik stood above her.  The shot rang out, deafening her ears but missing her body.

The gun trembled in his hand.  He looked down.

Megan didn't say a word, just stared up at him with eyes that were ancient in their understanding.  Erik stared back into the eyes of the game and lost.  He begged forgiveness as he pulled the trigger.