She lay in the hospital bed. Tubes were all around her and the monitor beeped on her heart monitor. Her eyes lay closed, too weak to open them.

And for the first time, ever, he cried. He cried for her and for himself. He cried because it was all his fault that she was there now, in the hospital, or

at least that is what he led himself to believe. Outside his mother looked at him crying and frowned. She hated that he blamed himself. He just

wasn't there when she got hit by the speeding car. He wasn't there, and that is why he blamed himself. That is why he thought it was all his fault.

He knew that if he was there when she in the middle of that intersection, standing there frozen like a deer in headlights, he would have pushed her

out of the way, or better yet, he would jump in front of her, so it was he who got hit, and he would be the one in that bed at this moment, not her.

He took a deep breath, wishing she would wake up, and kissed her gently on the lips. Then he cried some more as he saw she did not wake up.

Today was the day he was going to tell her that he loved her….well before….what happened….