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He’s out there. Waiting. Just keep watching the clock. 2:46 2:47 2:48 I can watch the clock all night. I’ll watch each minute tick by until morning. The clock will keep me sane, and if I am alive in the morning, he’ll be gone. Right? Why is it taking so long for him to walk down the fucking hallway? Does he not know I’m here? Is Jenn already dead or will he execute us together? That’s what this is. An execution. Who’d want to execute Jenn? She’s the nicest person I know! ‘Get into the tub.’ Yeah. That’s an execution alright. Who the fuck would do this? Maybe it’s the old guy downstairs. He’s been alone for so long, and the landlord made him get rid of his cat because it pissed all over the carpet. Maybe he cracked up. Maybe he thinks he’s doing the world a favor by getting rid of the weird girls upstairs. If he’s crazy, nothing has to make sense, right? Or maybe it’s the guy in apartment two who just got divorced. Maybe Jenn looks like his ex-wife. He could be a serial killer for. Well, the path she had been on. It had disappeared, and she was now completely lost. And it got better. When they'd said there was a path to Doctor Weston's house, she assumed they'd meant a fucking PAVED path. She should have known better, and thank God she'd decided not to wear her heels. Sandals were bad enough. Well, sandals, a short skirt (rumor had it that the Doctor liked women in short skirts, and Linda knew she looked damn good in one), and an almost see-through blouse (no bra) that was now approaching see-through since she was soaked in sweat. Such was the price for an interview with the good Doctor.Thank god for the small GPS locater she had, which currently showed that she should be on the Doctor's property. Not that you'd know it, since it looked just like the rest of the jungle.Ah ha! She looked around as she stumbled into a small clearing. The GPS unit showed that the house should be around here somewhere. She took one step toward the direction of the house, and.
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His eyes, would be all that I’d see on the dark nights alone. I’d dream of them breaking through the gloom, of rushing madly to them and of leaping faithfully onwards. I would break out into the dark of the night, only to settle after hearing his steady breathing. It was then, that the first signs of a wracking became visible. A hand clutched his chest, trying to claw out the pain that his coughs would sound. It was horrible, but there was nothing I could do but fret, worry and uselessly fiddle at the corner of his shirt. Had he the voice to name an act to relieve him, I would have dashed to it, and if only it could have been ended so soon. Night became day, over and again, but still his smile would lose time on his eyes to make way for the tired haze that the pains would leave in him. My hand clutched his so tightly and desperately sought to his every need. Doctors came and went, healers of all names, races and creeds. All came hesitantly and all left in disappointment. I would feel.

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