She knew she was dying. She was cold and lonely, having trouble breathing, she gasped for air. Her Mercedes had taken a tail-spin and smashed head-on into a concrete wall. Strapped to her car seat, blood was running rapidly down on her left side of her face, due to the sudden impact of her head against her side window. Miss Parker was dressed in a lavender micro-mini skirt and matching jacket. She laid motionless.
Her "you run, I chase" game had finally ended. Having the courage to finally leave The Centre, she raced out of the parking garage and into freedom, so she thought.
Flashbacks of her life entered through her mind. She slipped in and out of consciousness. With little strength she had left, her right hand moved slowly reaching for her handbag, with her eyes half-closed, she struggled to open her purse fumbling for a specific content.
The siren was deafening. The lights were blaring. Fire department crew, paramedics and police rushed to save the woman, but they were too late.
"What a mess," mumbled one of the crew member. Her car was totaled. Glass shattered all over, the wreckage looked like an aftermath of a junkyard.
As firemen pried her side open, cutting into her securely strapped seatbelt around her, they gently slid her out. Her body was limb, as a paramedic lifted her into his arms. Her right hand was clutched into a fist as if holding on to something. With the movement of her being carried out, her closed fingers relaxed and a tube of lipstick fell out of her hand and onto the ground. Shaking their heads, rescue crew commented that even on her death bed did she take the time to put on her lipstick.
Jarod stopped to see what the commotion was all about. As he got closer, he noticed what looked like her Mercedes. Having pulled his truck over, he recognized her license plate.
"Noooooo," he screamed. Rushing to her side, someone from the coroner's office held him back. He watched helplessly as Miss Parker was laid on the gurney. Her dark hair in disarray, blood-stained on her face, her body mangled.
"Wait," he cried out and slowly walked towards her. He softly touched her face. "So, this is goodbye, Parker," he cried out tearfully. "If only I could change places with you. Don't you know I love you? Damned it, Parker! I Love You!" He screamed.
"Is your name Jarod, sir?" A policewoman asked.
He nodded. She held his hand and led him to the passenger side of the car and pointed to the red scribblings on the seat. It read "Jarod" with a heart drawn alongside of his name.
"You see, sir, you were in her last thoughts," the officer spoke, her voice cracking, she laid a comforting hand on Jarod's shoulder.
He slowly pulled himself up, took a deep breath and exhaled trying to compose himself. All of his life, he's waited for her to admit her feelings for him, but not in that manner. He should have told her he loved her. But, now it was to late.
"She'll never know I loved her," he tells the officer. He stood silently as a sheet was pulled over her.
"Goodbye, Parker." He weeps. "Save a place for me."