Embrace the Night

Page 188



"You're crying," he said persistently. "Why?"

"Why do you care? You don't even know me."

He shrugged, bewildered by his attraction to this strange woman. And yet there was something about her that drew him, some indefinable essence that reminded him of Sara Jayne.

"I've seen you sitting here every night for the past week," he said with a shrug. "Oh?"

He nodded. "I like to walk through the park in the evening," he said, his gaze lingering on the pulse throbbing in her throat.

"Don't you know it's not safe to wander around after dark in L.A.?" "Don't you?"

"Maybe I'm hoping some pervert will come along and do me in," she retorted.

"Do you in?" He frowned at her as he sought to comprehend her meaning. Language, too, had changed drastically in the last half-century.

"Kill me," she said bluntly.
"You're not serious?"

She shrugged. "Maybe I am. Maybe I'm tired of living."

"You're so young," he muttered. "How could you possibly be tired of living?"
"Maybe because I've got nothing to live for."

She stared at the concrete path beneath her feet, wishing she had never been born. Everyone she had ever loved was dead. Why hadn't she died, too? What was there to live for now? A rainy night, a drunk driver, and she had lost her parents, her husband, her baby daughter.

"What's your name?" he asked. But he knew, knew what it would be even before she spoke. "Sarah. What's yours?"

He hesitated a moment. "Gabriel."

"Well, Gabriel, it was nice to meet you, but I think I'll be going now." "Will you be here tomorrow night?"

"I don't think so."

He watched her walk away, felt the pain and the despair that engulfed her, the all-encompassing sense of loneliness.