She'd always come running when I called. I could have called her to come get a splinter out of my hand, to help me with my homework, to get me out from the tree in my backyard, or just so I could see her smiling face for hours as we talked. I was so use to this that the idea that some day she wouldn't come running when I called never even crossed my mind. I loved her with every single particle that made up my body.

At this exact moment though the only thought I could think was that she'd never come running again. I was holding her limp body in my arms. The blood was no longer pulsing out of her body from her heart but it was still warm. The tears on my face were still falling freely, but her's were drying. Some where in the distance I could hear a siren coming to try and save her, but it was to late. I failed to protect her when she needed me, when I was already right beside her. I let the mugger steal our things and then shoot her, I didn't try and fight him at all. I let him kill her. It's my fault she'll never come running to me again.


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Katrina Sinclair (joined about 9 years ago)

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love romance


love sad emotional injustice seperation


She'd always come running when I called.
Prompt suggested by Galen


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