Living Without Her

Crimson Echo Dixon is now 23 years old. She was 17 when her girlfriend, Lana Jane Parks, was severely burned in a house fire and died a day later. Everyday, she thinks about her. Crimson wonders if she'll ever let Lana go.

This is Crimson's life, and it still feels like Lana is in control.

This is the sequel to "My Angel".


4. Hospital

I wake up in a sterile-smelling environment that sounds like a hushed roar. Men and women in white speed quickly in and out of places.

"Ahh, Miss Dixon, I see you've awaken," a nurse says. She checks my vitals, heart rate, blood pressure, and everything. "You've lucky to have come in when you did. I think a little later would of been too late."

"Dammit," I mutter under my breath. I wince. Everything hurts. They must of pumped my stomach. I suddenly feel like I'm about to be sick, so I clamp my mouth shut and suck on my spit.

"You're a lucky women." The nurse scribbles a few things down and begins to walk away. "I'll be back in a little bit."

I sigh and close my eyes. I hate myself. I didn't swallow enough; I guess it's a sign from Lana.

"Why did you keep me here baby?"


The same nurse, I learn her name is Sandra, comes back every hour until 8 pm, then repeats the same thing for the next few days. She doesn't take my vitals anymore. She asks me about why I did what I did. She asks about Lana. She asks about my life before I moved to New York City. Sandra tells me about her douche bag boyfriend who left her after she miscarried. She tells me about how she was abused as a kid and how she likes helping youth that are addicted to drugs the most because she used to be a major stoner. It's wonderful to have someone to finally talk to.

After five days, they're releasing me from the white room.

"I hope I can see you again Crimson," Sandra says. "Hopefully, just not here."

"No promises," I tell her. "No. Promises."

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