It had been hours, but I finally woke up. Head throbbing, bleeding, freezing cold, fortunately not dead. After all I had been through, I had one thought going through my mind.

It was all just an accident.

No sirens were sounded, noone even bothered to cover my body up. I was shot and left for dead just like that. Not a thought was given to his actions, he just turned and ZAP! As far as he knew, I was gone.

But it was just an accident all the same.

Or so I told myself.

I had known him for years. We never really knew each other until Frankie started with that horrible, horrible plan. The one that involved getting rid of Eddie. I was a total wreck after that, and I would wander the halls at night looking for something- anything!- to distract me from my piercing grief.

And that's how it started.

An accident. We ran into each other. He was there. He was my shelter.

In the following months we got closer than I ever would have imagined. In all the warm, sweet hugs. In all the late night talks. In every tear we shed together, I never noticed his sanity was suddenly crumbling, though he gave me signs all the time.

I sat up and brushed the dirt from between my legs. The poolwater and tears had done away with 75% of my makeup, and only half of my lingerie remained. A stupid part of me thought maybe I could find my ol' tailcoat in the rubble, but I knew deep down he had taken it with him.

Forcing myself to stand, I shook off the cold and stumbled across the remaining grass and gravel. As I searched desperately for some kind of shelter, I tried to imagine what had happened after I was shot. He went home, of course. He always told me he would have to once he got the chance. Obviously he took his sister with him.

His sister, my closest friend and biggest competition for his affection.

No time for anger. Or jealousy. Or depression. Or whatever that emotion was. I wanted to focus on what probably had happened. No sign of the stupid kids or that crazy doctor, except for a broken wheelchair in the middle of the rubble. Either he killed them- highly unlikely- or they got smart and ran the hell away. More than likely, they were still alive...

...Which was more than I could say about Frankie. Of course he had killed Frankie. He hated our crazy tranvestite master. We all did, really. Save for me. Even after he had done in Eddie, I was in love with him. I was always a stupid girl like that, loving what was bound to kill me.

So Frankie was dead. Eddie was dead. He was gone.

I finally found a bush to sit under, and all but collapsed to the ground. Warmer than I was, and attempting to get comfortable, I allowed myself to continue my session of flashbacks. Now that he was gone, they were all I had to cling to.

The first thing that came back to me was the night his sister left. Frankie needed someone to go pick up more ice for Eddie's freezer (or should I say tomb?). He wasn't on speaking terms with Frankie, and I was too crazy and depressed to be trusted with the task. That's how on that fateful night we ended up alone.

I had just gotten in bed, starting to fall asleep when the feeling hit. Back then it would come at the most random times, and all of a sudden for no reason I would just scream. The tears would all come out at once and I wanted nothing more than to die. Normally at these times I would wake up his sister and cuddle real close to her. I'll be honest, we did have...relations from time to time. I think it was more for experimentation, though. She was too attached to her brother to have any feelings for anyone else.

Sadly though, my best friend and sometimes lover was gone, and I couldn't stop I myself. I threw off the covers and started running down the halls. Screaming and knocking down anything I touched. There was no point. I was all alone, and nothing ever counted. Whether I was lashing out like now and broken down in bed, it never meant anything. Eddie was gone, Frankie didn't love me, I was alone. No matter what happened, I was the loser.

With no way to turn around, I eventually collapsed at the end of the hallway. Which also happened to be where his room was. I swear I was close to snuffing it, when he opened the door. I stared up at him, almost blinded by the tears, expecting a stupid lecture on why I should stop being so destructive. Instead, he just looked at me. It was a disapproving look, but I enjoyed his silence. At long last he sighed, and sat down on the floor next to me.

That was the first time he held me. On that date I had known him almost two years. He always seemed like a brick wall, with no emotions except his hatred for Frankie and love for his sister. But the second his skin touched mine, I knew everything.

Oh God...

The feeling. I hadn't felt it in almost a month. But it was coming back...fast. I stored every memory I had of him in a nice little photo album, way in the back of my mind. Trying to appease myself, I frantically flipped through them all. Stared at each individual photograph. It was all in the past now. Everything. I would never ever see him again.

I've never had a family and Frankie was my first friend. However, realizing he had up and left to another fucking galaxy... I had never felt so lonely.

Struggling, I stood up and faced the road. I didn't care that my boobs were exposed, and I didn't care that I looked like a lunatic. He was gone, and I had to get over it. I stumbled down the road, not bothering with a ride.

I knew it was a long walk, but all I wanted was to get to Denton and forget it all. Start a new life. I always wanted to be a nurse... Maybe fake a diploma, get a nursing job? I didn't know.

The only thing I honestly knew is that wherever my life took me from that moment, I would never stop wishing that he had showed me love.