sorry this took so long getting out here. Also I promise the next chapter is going to be longer. Thx for the reviews I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and continue to let me know what you think! enjoy-

For the first time in his life the darkness was his friend. It hid him from the world-it even prevented him from seeing himself.

The darkness, however, didn't prevent him from hearing his own sobs, from feeling the tears running down his cheeks. From feeling the aching in his heart like someone had stabbed him.

Stabbed. Someone had stabbed him.

The moment that knife sank through her flesh he was dead. He closed his eyes and dropped his head onto his knees.

It was the worst moment of his life.

Three hours before he would have said the worst moment was when Lincoln had been sentenced to death. But no matter how innocent his brother was she was totally innocent. She didn't have a mark on her…she was a victim.

She was his victim. It was his fault she had been there, it was his fault T-bag had gotten a hold of her. If he had done more, moved quicker…instead he was half paralyzed with fear and the other half to confused on how to solve the problem.

So he had done nothing-just used words. And words had hurt Sara…maybe even killed her.

Michael bit down on his bottom lip. Tears sprung from his eyes.

He didn't even know if she was alive.

More guards had arrived seconds later-somewhere along the line he was pulled from her. Being replaced by the on hand nurse who prepared Sara for transport.

Michael's last glimpse of her was her being lifted on a gurney…guards cuffing him from behind. Cuffing his hands that were still covered in her blood.

They hadn't let him wash. Michael extended his hands so he could view them. He had done his best to clean them-wiping them on anything-the bits of toilet paper…the blanket, his pants.

Anything. But her blood was still here. He could feel in soaking in. He wanted to vomit.

He heard footsteps approach his door and slow he lifted his head eagerly.

"You there, Scofield." Bellick sneered bending down to look through the slot.

"I'm here boss," Michael choked out. He needed information on Sara-anything.

"The Pope wanted me to tell you what happened to your little junkie girlfriend." Bellick said dramatically.

Michael rushed to the door; he rested on his knees staring at Bellick. "What happened? Is she ok-?"

"She died. In surgery." Bellick threw, "Guess she lost all that blood when you left her on that floor."

"What-?" Michael gasped. Suddenly the breath was sucked out of his lungs and he fell on his butt. "What? She's-?"

"Yeah-your junkie girlfriend's dead. And it's your fault." Bellick hissed. "Don't try with the innocent act either, Scofield. I know what's going on and I'll get you."

Michael wasn't listening, he was hearing the words, but he couldn't understand them. He could only hear his blood pumping through his veins. His heart rate beat fast, his mouth opened gasping for air.

Michael leaned against the bed. She was gone. She was gone before he had a chance to be with her. She was gone before he had a chance to make up for everything he had done to her.

She was gone before they had a chance at Baja and 50 cent beers.

He sobbed. He gave in to the body wrenching screams…the sobs that left him hoarse. And when he was done he waited for more to come…because he knew it wasn't over. He loved her and killed her.

He loved her. Michael froze, he respected her, he admired her, he had feelings for her, yes. But Love? Michael gasped through another sob. Most defiantly love.

The slot allowed a stream of light to hit Michael's hands. He wrenched his eyes open and stared at the red soaked hands before him. For a sick, twisted moment he was comforted by her blood on his hands. By her blood soaking into him.

He would always have that part of her in him.