Rich stood on the side of the road next to the crumpled trashcan. He wanted to comfort Taylor as her father scolded her about the accident. It did not change the fact that Rich lay in the hospital bed, his arms filled with needles and a stiff tube forced down his throat. Their actions were the difference between him living a dying.
He looked over his shoulder to his body lying in the bed, while before him was Taylor. Her beautiful face streaked with tears and a large white gauze bandage taped to her forehead. Taylor did not try to explain herself as they walked into the house. Rich watched from the kitchen as she removed her coat, her eyes swelling with redness. Why did her father still yell?
“LEAVE HER ALONE,” Rich yelled, his voice echoed through the house but did not reach her father’s ears.
Rich grabbed the knife from the counter. It felt strange in his hand. Taylor stopped, seeing the knife float in the air, for a moment she saw the transparent image of Rich but it faded quickly as his energy was needed to propel the knife into her father’s arm.