He sat up and grabbed her shoulders with both hands, "Tara Summer! Are you alright? Did Anthony do anything to you…"
Tara Summer didn't make a sound, didn't even lift her eyes, just shook her head and then shrugged off his hands.
She slowly walked over to the French window, leaned against the glass, and stared at the streets of Los Angeles outside, her face indifferent, her whole being lifeless.
George Summer's heart ached as he watched her; he stood up and walked over, raising his hand to touch her. His right hand was halfway there when he abruptly pulled it back.
"Ah…" He sighed and leaned against the window as well.
Both fell silent; the room was deathly still, with only the ticking of the wall clock "tick-tock tick-tock" resounding, each tick striking at the heart.
After a long while, Tara Summer finally turned her head to look at the man, but after just a glance, she turned and headed for the door.
