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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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