"Ash!"
Her voice was high and frightened. Somehow, it cut through the deadly
anger in my chest, and made me stop.
"Ash! Please--Ash--I...." She put her hands up to her face and stood
there, sobbing into them.
My nails were digging into my palms. I opened my hands, and saw blood
running over my knuckles where the tape had torn away. There was some
of my blood on her dress, where I'd grabbed her shoulder.
"Ash! Please--I'm sorry--It--it's just that I didn't know what to
think."
I don't know how I got over to her, but then I had my arms around
her, and she was digging her teeth into the cloth of my shoulder, and
sobbing.
"Pat, why do you have to be this way? Why can't you--" I was saying,
and stroking that red-brown hair. She wasn't a tough, self-assured
woman who could gun a man down without blinking. She was a soft, hurt,
crying girl, mumbling through tears, her body shaking.
I wasn't a guy who'd fought his way through a war and countless battles
since, either.
She pulled her face away from me, and looked up. Her eyes were wet, but
she wasn't scared any more.