Anthony stayed outside to watch, and I slowly opened the large white door. Every attempt of mine to prepare myself for what I was about to see did nothing. I saw Angie Foster, the love of my life, laying in a hospital bed, with cuts and a beaten body, and a nasal cannula attached to her face. I couldn't even cry, I couldn't even shed another single tear. My girlfriend, who I had promised to keep safe forever was now here with injuries worse than any girl should ever have to endure. Then I felt it, one more tear. It rolled down my cheek and fell to the ground. I clasped my hand over my mouth, and with watery eyes, I approached the bedside. Her face wasn't swollen, but she had multiple cuts and lacerations held together with butterfly closures. She still looked so beautiful. Which made me even more sad. I caressed the soft skin of her cheek and brushed her hair out of her face. And then she woke up.
"...I like this song. It has such a feel to it. Especially the sound of her voice when it echoes." Angie said as we walked down the dark walkway of the Mayland County community park. We were holding hands and sharing headphones connected to my device. Lana Del Rey was one of our favorite artists that we shared. We would always listen to our list while we walked at night.
"I still think the older ones are better, but I love this one too," I said while viewing the list. She smiled and looked up. We both stopped and could see the moon just in between the patches of tree leaves. "It's nice."
"Yeah. I love the night. No one around, the feel of the cool air, and the sky looks so pretty." She said while still looking up. She looked down at me and hugged me. She held me tight with her small body and whispered in my ear, "I love you...
is that you
"Is that you?" Angie said while waking up. My heart stopped. I zoned out again. I was frozen just hours ago. My eyes got wide while I looked down at her, and what I saw surprised me. She was smiling at me. As gently as possible, I bent down and we hugged from her bed. We both had tears in our eyes, and we stayed like that for at least a minute. She felt warm in her bed, and I was colder than ever before.
"I'm so sorry. I should have been there. I should never have let you walk alone in that part of town at night. I'm sorry, Angie." I was crying very hard again. So was she.
"Vincent, It's okay. Please don't blame yourself." She said. If only that were true. But it was entirely my fault, whether she admitted it or not. I hated myself for it. And I always would. We looked at each other again with my tears falling on her face, and we kissed. Right as our lips touched, arms interlocked with mine as I was torn from her. She reached her arm out and screamed my name, while I stayed calm as the officers pulled me away. I reached my arm out as well as if it would do anything.
"I swear! Angie, I swear! I will do everything in my power to make them pay!" I yelled. Still pulling me away, the officers told me to be quiet. But I couldn't. "I love you!" Then I blacked out.
"What were you thinking? Seriously you two, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Daniel Ascher said with fury. "I should have both you boys put in the county jail for a day or two. But I won't, because I know what you're going through." He was pissed. More than ever before.
"Listen," Donnie spoke up. "It's okay. I know what they did to me was wrong, but I understand. It was just the wrong way of going about it." He said softly. I think I misjudged this guy. Maybe. Daniel shook his head.
"If you boys ever do anything like this again, Anton, you're terminated at Jare's. And Vincent, your hopes of college are completely fucked." He was going a little too far, for something as minor as this. Jesus. "Okay. Vince, you're out of here soon. Anthony, go home to your father. I'm sure he needs you."
"Okay, but Vince, promise me you'll come right home," Anthony said. Always care more about me than himself.
"Yeah, yeah. I promise. Go home to Dad. I'll be back soon."
Anton left, and it was just me sitting on the side of the bed, the cold metal rails imprinting themselves into my legs. I held my head by my hair in my hands and sighed deeply. Waiting for whatever was to come, was torture. My thoughts were violent and full of rage. But I didn't know what I was going to do yet. The news was on by the bedside table, and I was disgusted at what I saw. Talk of the assault was all over the channels, especially the county news. But it was spreading to other towns, and soon would be talked about all over. I wanted to cry again but decided not to. I wasn't going to be weak. I was going to be as strong as I could. There were photos of where her body had been found after the attack, and the trauma suffered. And then it showed a small metal pipe with a smooth end in an evidence bag. I had to look away. I was going to throw up again if I watched more. I finally turned back after a few seconds, and then I saw him. Filling up with even more uncontrollable rage, I looked at the face of Regan Vantse, the 17-year-old high school student who had committed the act.
The 17-year-old boy was responsible for all this pain and torment.
And my best friend.