Sunday, November 25, 2012

This Just In: Part 9

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The body of a nine year old girl was discovered in the streets of New York today.

       “But,” James Parker whispered, “she's not dead.”
        Looking around with tears in his eyes, the old man realized no one was listening. It was only then, with his head lowered did he feel the Life-Alert necklace hanging from his neck. He quickly pulled the necklace from his shirt and pressed that little red button. Sonya was getting colder and James pleaded to the crowd, “Is there a doctor here? Anyone?”
        A quiet cough brought the old man's attention to the dying girl. He asked her, “Can you hear me?”
        But Sonya did not respond. She merely reached one blood stained hand to James Parker's face and he felt death on her skin. She pulled his head down toward her mouth so he could feel the shallow breaths from her chattering mouth, “I'm so sorry,” she whimpered.
         He looked into those watering brown eyes, “No, don't be sorry, mi cielo. You're going to be fine. You're so strong.”
Sonya closed her eyes and let two tears fall to the ruby-red concrete below. “Do you think God will like me?”
         This question shot a pain through his chest like nothing he had experienced. I don't think God would have let this have happened if he was up there, Sonya.
        He could not tell her this, though. It was not his place; he held her close to his chest. “I think,” he started, “I think He'll keep you right by His side. I think you're going to be warm and close to the sun, and you'll get to watch over your mother and fall asleep on flowers and stay up as late as you want.”
James Parker could not tell if she had smiled in her last seconds. Her eyes closed slightly and, pupils dilated, she let out one final exhale. Her lips and skin were blue- cold. Sonya was gone. James continued to cry.
         “You can eat all the candy you want,” he told her, knowing she had passed, “and never get a stomach ache. You can play games and watch television and no one will ever be mean and everyone will help each other. It'll never rain, unless you want it to.”
         With two finger, James closed the eyes of the little girl; after he let out a few more tearless sobs he saw what Sonya had bought with her twenty dollars- a marble sculpture of a dove with an inscription on the bottom. You can't take the sky from me.
The old man ran his fingers over the inscription before sliding it in his pocket. He will keep that until Sonya's funeral, where he'd leave it upon her casket.
        Then he saw something else- beside her a small white paper bag, dotted with specks of red blood. Inside the bag was a small orange bottle with an address and the name Georgia Escobar. Inside the bottle was Vicodin.
         The old man kissed Sonya on her icy forehead and started for her mother's apartment.


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