If this is what you called broken.
Maybe if he held her closer. There were shards everywhere. Maybe he could stop the blood. He knew nothing about her. Who was she? All they did was dance together. Quick, one song. Her heartbeats were fragmented. Could he call 911. Maybe if he held her closer. The suspects fled the scene. He saw their face. Knew their fleeing direction. Knew the location. Their eye color embellished in his brain.
"Trump Hotel. Yes, International. Adjacent to Central Park."
The paramedics were quick. Voices ringing. Shane's feet fast approaching. She moved her hand. Shane looked down. She looked up. She held his hand.
"Mitchie."
Barely a whisper.
Shane furrowed his brow.
"My name is Mitchie."
"You're Shane."
"I remember you from a lifetime."
"I loved you."
She knew his name. There was guilt. He didn't know her's.
"We were supposed to meet."
They shoved her away. Without invitation he followed. He didn't let go of her hand. There was a mental shift. He didn't know what he was doing. He had a life.
She looked at him. He looked back. He was forgetting something.
He could see the broken. Broken in her face. Her eye shift. They were broken too. Then he was broken. Painful. It was painful.
"She's suffering," paramedic said.
"I'm fine," Mitchie whispered.
She smiled.
"She was drugged," paramedic continued.
"My boyfriend," Mitchie laughed, "it was him."
"Are you sure?" Paramedic asked.
Boyfriend. "Boyfriend?" Shane pondered.
"Yes, I saw him."
"He was supposed to."
Mitchie sounded sure. Mitchie was sane. Mitchie knew.
"They were supposed to attack me too."
"How do you know," Paramedic had a pen.
"I saw them before," Mitchie smiled, "In a dream."
"Like a case of De-"
"I have to go to sleep now," Mitchie yawned. "I'm supposed to."
Mitchie looked to Shane. "I'm going to go into a coma okay?"
Shane was lost.
"You can't leave me."
Mitchie went to sleep. She didn't wake up either. The whole ride she was asleep.
Even at the hospital.
Mitchie went to sleep.
Mitchie was broken.