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Writer
Join Date: May 2004
Posts: 35
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1st half of chapter1
This is the first half of chapter one of my novel, "The Distance Between Us." Comments appreciated. This novel has just recieved a publishing offer and I'm doing the final editing
In the pre-dawn grayness, the blue haze of a TV flickered. Voices of reporters rose quietly from it, as if tentative about disturbing the unnatural silence in the hospital. They were interrupted every few seconds by a sharp fitz as the station was switched from one newscast to another; a continuous rotation. The faces changed, the wardrobe, the sets, but the top story stayed the same - the great drug bust on the east side docks. The channels continued to flip, an endless rotation of different newscast...but that morning, all the same. Who could have known that one crime would make such an impact in the big city.
She had.
She was curled delicately in a chair, with one hand wrapped around a cup of coffee, and the other around the TV remote - a young, slender girl dressed all in black. She knew the job was a mistake before it even happened. But Mark didn't listen to her. He never listened. With a yawn, the girl briefly forgot the TV, and, setting the coffee beside her, stretched her arms behind her head in a long luxurious motion...giving the distinct impression of a black cat come to life, or maybe a Siamese. With another yawn, she rested her head back against the chair and gazed out the lone window, to the streetlamp beyond. She had warned Mark his plan wouldn't work - had warned him that it was too big, too dangerous, too stupid, but he just wouldn't listen. Whether it was pride or stubbornness she couldn't say. It was like he had a personal vendetta against the world that he was forever trying to fill. Only this time it wasn't the world paying.
Leaning forward, she rubbed her eyes - tired from lack of sleep, and then moved her gaze to the hospital bed beside her. Wolf was lying there, motionless in stock blue nightgown and under hospital pressed sheets. Her other half. He looked thinner than when she last saw him, and his face was so pale it was almost white. Even his black hair appeared limp as it spread across the pillow. His eyes were tightly shut, and no life at all played across his features. If it weren't for the heart monitor filling the room with it's steady, comforting rhythm, she could have mistaken him for dead. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and rubbed them, hoping in some private spot that if she rubbed hard enough the scene in front of them would go away. But it didn't. When she opened them again she was greeted with the same cold white room - the same flower print wallpaper, dragged and faded, as if a little of it's color had accompanied every lost patient. She wondered if it would be even more faded by the time she left. She sighed and put her head back against the chair, closing her eyes to the world around her. A moment later she was alert again as a sharp hiss rose from the oxygen machine. She looked at Wolf, a knot forming in her stomach. Tense, she waited...the machine returned to its regular intervals of hisses. With a heavy sigh, she stood up and moved over to the bed.
"I'm sorry Wolf," she said, sitting on its edge, "So sorry." She took his hand in hers. It felt limp and lifeless in her grasp. The skin was cool. Her grip on it tightened. "I should have been there, I know. I should have done something I should have-" she stopped, realizing what she was saying. "I should have what? What could I have done?"
She let go of Wolf's hand and stood up. If she had been there, she would have probably been shot too. They both could be dead and it was all Mark's fault. She wrapped her arms around herself in a protective hug and went to the window, where she stood and looked out at the lightening landscape beyond. The parking lot was visible below now drab and colorless. A bitter sneer appeared at the side of her mouth. They both could be dead, and Mark wouldn't even spring for a decent hospital. The sneer disappeared quickly though, as she knew the complaint held no weight. Mark took Wolf to the most run- down, needy place in the area for a reason...no one asked questions. That was Mark all right, always looking at the bottom line, even with them. They weren't people to him, they were just possessions. Her thin brows furrowed into a frown. What was he going to think when one of his possessions walked back into his life. Was he going to be happy to see her, or was he going to try and strangle her? Pressing her forehead against the cool glass, she shut her eyes, and retraced the last days before she left...what had she done? She squeezed her eyes tighter, trying to remember. Did she tell Mark she was going to leave - did she hint at it at least?...No...no she hadn't. All she had done was scratch a note one night and slip out the window. No explanations, and no goodbyes. The note wasn't even the truth, it was just some hurried excuse she thought of. Did Mark know it was a lie? Wolf would have, she was sure of that, but Mark? Probably not. She opened her eyes and looked again at the cheerless parking lot. The sun had risen now, and the wet cement was beginning to dry. Two children ran, bouncing towards the hospital. A crow grappled with a crumpled MacDonald's wrapper. A scratched black corvette squealed out of the parking lot. Life went on as usual, impervious to her presence. It was the note that she regretted. She regretted how fast she had written it, how cold and unfeeling it must have sounded when it was read. How untrue it must have sounded. But how could she have told the truth? How could she have possibly told Mark that she was scared - that it was a deep, nagging terror hounding her day and night, and she was running - fleeing in a desperate attempt to be free of it. How could she have told him that, when she didn't even know what she was scared of. She couldn't, and that's why she lied. Now, standing there in the hospital room, staring down at a drying parking lot, forced back into the life she tried to leave, the whole episode seemed so meaningless. It hadn't even gotten rid of the fear. It made it worse. She turned away from the window, taking a deep breath. What was Mark going to think?
Her ears suddenly picked up the sound of footsteps in the hallway. Turning quickly, she faced the door. There were two sets - the louder one she recognized as the clump of heavy soled army boots. Mark. Her heart beat a step faster. She stepped backwards, slightly out of line of the door. The footsteps reached the room and the door swung open...a nurse walked in, followed by Mark...
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