Kelly - Four Years Ago
Tommy held me and stroked my hair, pleading with me to tell him what was wrong. He even asked, shakily, if Mom had died. I shook my head and somehow stammered out that she was in hospital and I needed a ride, but I was scared to go.
And he squeezed me harder and just held me while I cried. I was so grateful, but I was also aching for Crash, wondering if Tommy would let Crash use his car so Crash could take me. Wondering if Crash would even take me—because he'd seemed so unhappy and angry lately. And that just made me cry harder.
But Tommy was my best friend. He didn't ask questions or anything. He just held me while I cried, until finally my sobs were just hiccups, then heavy breaths. But he still didn't let go. And neither did it.
