He stood there, thinking, wondering. He kept trying to look in her eyes, afraid of what she'd see if she looked back. Those eyes, oh, those eyes. They could see right through him, through everything. He didn't want her to see him, all of his secrets, his wrists, the faded "salvation" carved into his forearm. He was embarassed by it, knew it was a stupid thing to do. He hid it from everyone. Each scar represented a moment, a time in his life when he believed there was no other way out, a lapse in judgement. He kept looking away every time she looked up at him. She couldn't help but smile at the idea, she knew he was looking at her. She too was scared of what he might see. Like him, her scars stuck out on her pale skin. It was as if someone had attacked her wrists with a bright red marker. He could see them very clearly. He looked up slowly. Their eyes met and they both knew exactly what the other was thinking. Gently, he lifted her hand to his face. She didn't recoil as he had fully expected her to. She just gazed into his eyes. All she saw was him, nothing else. She saw all the pain that he had suffered through. She saw how all the kids had always made fun of him for one reason or another. Likewise, all he saw was her. They embraced, he whispered in her ear. She didn't care who saw, she looked up and kissed him. It was as if time stood still. He wanted, more than anything, for this moment to last forever. For one single, fleeting moment, everything felt right. He put his forehead on hers. She smiled at him, grinned. She knew she was in love. She asked herself how it could ever have taken this long for them to be alone, face to face. They kissed again and she headed down the road. Just then, a car came screaching around the corner, the driver clearly intoxicated. The car hit her, head on. She lay on the sidewalk, gasping. She could see him running towards her. She closed her eyes as she drew her last breaths. She could feel his skin on hers. He cried for her. A tear ran down her cheek. Once again, everything stood still. He could never forget her, never forgive himself for letting her go so soon.
* * * * *
The knife left a red streak as it slid across his wrist. Effortlessly, he did it again, and again. Blood ran from the open cut as he cried. He couldn't live without her, he hated the man in the car, he stole her away from him. He was getting weak now as he lay on the ground. Closing his eyes, he saw her. She frowned at him. He couldn't do it. It wasn't too late for him, never too late. Sitting up he dialed the phone...."Ambulance..."