Part 6
watching time slip away
Why do I always have to try and be the "big hero?" I am making people sacrifice many things. I damn near made Eberts lose what ever little of his life he was hanging onto. Why did I do that? So, I can find out if he is the one, I've always been searching for. I could say after that video, I wanted to save him because I didn't want to see him get hurt anymore, but it all breaks down to I wanted to make sure he was the one I was searching for, I wanted to see if I could get what I always needed from him. If he could cure my lonely nights. I should have done it for Eberts. I was so selfish, saving him because I needed to see if my supicion about him was correct. Now, he's lying here bleeding in my lap. He has cuts on his back from where they were whipping him, and the wound in his shoulder, from the bullet wound, I earned him. I think I am in love with him, and I can't bear to watch him bleed. But I can't do anything to make it stop, I need to make it stop, he may bleed to death while I am trying to figure out something to do for him. I remember my handkercheif in my pocket, I can not use it to cover any of the slashes on his back, but I can stop the beleeding from his shoulder. Can I do it while the Hitler looking guy isn't looking? Can Eberts wait that long? It doesn't look good, but I am not a doctor. Maybe I should have gone into medical school, then I wouldn't have to always be the hero, and cost people so much. "Why can't you drop that the bitch/'I can do it all without your help' image, Allie! " I scold myself. The Hitler guy turns his attention outside the window.
"We're being followed!!!" He yells at the driver. While he is distracted I tie the handkercheif tightly around Eberts arm. He moans slightly. Hitler turns towards me. "What in the hell are you doing?" He snaps. His voice sounds famillar, as if he is someone I should know, but I can't seem to place it now. My head is starting to ache, and I can't think straight.
"He's bleeding, I was just trying to help!" I cry back, despartely holding back the tears forming in the my head. I wish I could cry now, I should cry now, but I do not want this man to hurt Eberts more if I start, but what if it will help? I bite the inside of my cheek, I will wait for a little while. I may need many tears later.
"Fine! Fine! Try to stop the bleeding Miss Monroe! We had this all scheduled you know! You ruined it, asticote! Now, he will probably die quicker, and you as well. Tu est content pour la mort de Eberts, c'est sur ton mains!"His voice sends cold , unfriendly chills up my spine. He wants to know if I the maggot, am happy Eberts death is on my hands, what's wrong with this man, and how did he know my name.
A motocyclist is heard outside. They pull alongside, Hitler's window, making a swipe across the helmet, and speeding off. Arnaud grumbles something to the driver, and we pull onto a detour road. I watch the light blue helmet, disapper down the other road. The driver shifts a gear up, harshly, causing Eberts to tumble to the floor.
"If you want to save him so much, do not let him fall on the carpet again! I have to clean the stains from the sang on the seat as it is, I do not need to clean any sang off the carpet!" He says, picking him up as if he was a rag doll, and tossing him back onto my lap. Why is he saying the french word for blood, instead of the english, -or- the German? Then, it hits me, Why I should know the voice. Its Arnaud de Fohn. No wonder I feel as if I am sitting in the same limo, as a demon.
watching time slip away
Why do I always have to try and be the "big hero?" I am making people sacrifice many things. I damn near made Eberts lose what ever little of his life he was hanging onto. Why did I do that? So, I can find out if he is the one, I've always been searching for. I could say after that video, I wanted to save him because I didn't want to see him get hurt anymore, but it all breaks down to I wanted to make sure he was the one I was searching for, I wanted to see if I could get what I always needed from him. If he could cure my lonely nights. I should have done it for Eberts. I was so selfish, saving him because I needed to see if my supicion about him was correct. Now, he's lying here bleeding in my lap. He has cuts on his back from where they were whipping him, and the wound in his shoulder, from the bullet wound, I earned him. I think I am in love with him, and I can't bear to watch him bleed. But I can't do anything to make it stop, I need to make it stop, he may bleed to death while I am trying to figure out something to do for him. I remember my handkercheif in my pocket, I can not use it to cover any of the slashes on his back, but I can stop the beleeding from his shoulder. Can I do it while the Hitler looking guy isn't looking? Can Eberts wait that long? It doesn't look good, but I am not a doctor. Maybe I should have gone into medical school, then I wouldn't have to always be the hero, and cost people so much. "Why can't you drop that the bitch/'I can do it all without your help' image, Allie! " I scold myself. The Hitler guy turns his attention outside the window.
"We're being followed!!!" He yells at the driver. While he is distracted I tie the handkercheif tightly around Eberts arm. He moans slightly. Hitler turns towards me. "What in the hell are you doing?" He snaps. His voice sounds famillar, as if he is someone I should know, but I can't seem to place it now. My head is starting to ache, and I can't think straight.
"He's bleeding, I was just trying to help!" I cry back, despartely holding back the tears forming in the my head. I wish I could cry now, I should cry now, but I do not want this man to hurt Eberts more if I start, but what if it will help? I bite the inside of my cheek, I will wait for a little while. I may need many tears later.
"Fine! Fine! Try to stop the bleeding Miss Monroe! We had this all scheduled you know! You ruined it, asticote! Now, he will probably die quicker, and you as well. Tu est content pour la mort de Eberts, c'est sur ton mains!"His voice sends cold , unfriendly chills up my spine. He wants to know if I the maggot, am happy Eberts death is on my hands, what's wrong with this man, and how did he know my name.
A motocyclist is heard outside. They pull alongside, Hitler's window, making a swipe across the helmet, and speeding off. Arnaud grumbles something to the driver, and we pull onto a detour road. I watch the light blue helmet, disapper down the other road. The driver shifts a gear up, harshly, causing Eberts to tumble to the floor.
"If you want to save him so much, do not let him fall on the carpet again! I have to clean the stains from the sang on the seat as it is, I do not need to clean any sang off the carpet!" He says, picking him up as if he was a rag doll, and tossing him back onto my lap. Why is he saying the french word for blood, instead of the english, -or- the German? Then, it hits me, Why I should know the voice. Its Arnaud de Fohn. No wonder I feel as if I am sitting in the same limo, as a demon.