January 18, 2005A Loss From Words
"Oh God, " he gurgled. Trying to apply pressure to his wounds, Marie's hands found nothing firm to push against. His waist was horrible mush. "Keep looking at me. They will be here soon. I promise! She forced herself to swallow back vomit. "Marie..." his eyes widened as he gasped for breath. "Don't speak. Look at me. Stay with me." She held his head in both of her hands. "Marie...a...a....I made Loreanna...I made.....er...er...her do...it." Blood sputtered out through his lips. She stopped. His spoken words were like a giant FINE at the end of a Italian film. Her hands slipped from his head. Her whole body felt like Robert's unformed guts. Everything she cared about gushed out and she went limp. The medics approached. An officer grabbed Marie, and wrapping his arms around her, he tried to console this poor woman over the loss he thought laid before them on the road. Posted by Monkeyspit at January 18, 2005 7:03 PM | TrackBackComments
scotty...send me your e-mail address so i can send you some stuff on Virgin Gorda...hope all is well with you guys...and btw...your posted articles show me you have too much time on your hands!!! Posted by: Uncle Rick at January 20, 2005 10:36 AMintense Posted by: Bobby at January 20, 2005 3:33 PMPost a comment
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