Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, or stories, or plots etc...that would be CBS and that. I have no power over the script...darn.
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You came to me.
I don't have to look up to realise it is you who walks through the door. I can sense your soothing presence from here, hear your footsteps as you slowly come towards. I do not move, do not look up to see you gazing at me, I already know you are.
You breathe, slowly, deeply, then sit down in the empty seat next to me. I can feel your warmth beside me, a beacon calling to me, a symbol of hope, a guiding light in this cold and sinister room. I continue to look down. Your staring at me, I can feel your intense glaze passing over me. I cannot see, but only imagine your eyes. I am lost in the image, a colour so deep, strong, it sends a chill down my spine.
How long have we been sitting here for? And for what does it matter, you are here with me, however you want to take that. We sit in silence, lost in trances, thought. What are you thinking of? Are you thinking of me? Of course you are, your sitting beside me aren't you. You came for me, in my time of need. You answered my prayer. You came to me.
You're moving, where are you going? God don't go, please don't go. I need you here. I need you by my side. But you don't get up to go, you move your hand to fit over mine. The feeling sends tingles through my fingers, up my arm and warmth through to my heart. I am suddenly aware of the fact that I have been staring at our joined hands for an eternity. But I can't divert my site, the image, the two of us together, something so small as our hands coupled together, is something that I have hoped for, dreamed of, for what is as long as I can remember.
Then the words slip from your mouth, "Come on, I'll take you home".
I glance up to stare at you, shocked at just those six words, was that a kind offer, or a suggestion. And then I see it, a look of such concern that I have never seen in your eyes before. You are looking deep into mine, now not only with concern, but with what appears to be a longing.
"Sara, what happened?" I glance down at the ground again, too ashamed to answer. I thought that there was a hope, a hope that you would not be angry, but worried, wanting to make sure I was ok, not throw a lecture in my face. But, as usual, I was wrong, again.
"Sara look at me." I slowly lift my head, now so afraid. I try to look as if I'm not scared. Can you see the fear in my eyes?
"Oh God Sara, I'm not mad at you," you pause, looking straight into my now tear filling eyes "Oh my God, honey it's ok, please don't cry". But I can't hold my tears any longer, I bite my lip but it doesn't help, and I suddenly collapse into your now open arms. A rush of tears that have been held back for so long are flowing out like a rapid stream, gushing onto your shirt. But you don't seem to care. You have your arms wrapped around me tight.
"Oh sweetheart, calm down, I got you, and I'm not letting go ok?" I nod. I'm safe now, you came for me, in my time of need. You answered my prayer. You came to me.
