He Was Wearing Red Leather Shoes. It Matched With The Color Of Her Lipstick.

Friday night. In July. She left her home. Closed the door behind her. The keys in her handbag. Comfortably dressed in a pair of old blue jeans and a black t-shirt. Black high-heel shoes. Size 39. It was a rainy night. Rain drops coming down. Marvellous. She listened carefully. Each single rain drop had a magic quality. She was walking through the streets. Except for the rain and the impressive sound of her high heels, it was silent. Until her mobile phone made a noise. She stopped. It was a friend. She wrote him a short message. He replied. She smiled. Then continued walking. The bar was not so far. A car left the street in front of her. The driver was in a rush. So it seemed. Her mind was shortly absent. The next moment the car hit her. Just like that. She fell down. The time stopped.

He stepped out of his car. Was in panic. Did he hit her hard? Was she still alive? He looked around. No living soul to help him. He had to be courageous and take action. He bowed towards her. Her pulse was still there. He touched her gently. Took her in his arms. He would bring her to the next hospital. He carried her towards his car. She did not move. As if she was sleeping. Her perfume was mesmerizing. The light of the car showed her face. She was wearing red lipstick. It matched with his leather shoes. Her handbag was left behind on the street. Her mobile phone rang. No answer. In the backseat of the car he removed some objects to create space for her.

He observed her. Tried to figure out how big the damage was, caused by his car. Her high-heel shoes fell from her feet. There was no blood. Her body seemed fine. No wounds. She did not react. Was she unconscious? He closed the doors and started the motor of the car. The car obeyed. Instantly. With a serious expression on his face, he arrived at the hospital. Only five minutes away. He opened the doors of the car. Lifted her body up to bring it inside the hospital. The nurses brought him to a separate room. She was placed on a bed. A white room. White painting. White walls. She was still far away. The doctor came and asked what had happened to her. He expressed his feelings. Terror and pain in his eyes. He felt so bad for her.

The night seemed to last forever. No change. She was undergoing tests. No clue. He could not say a word anymore. He realized now the consequences of his actions. He came from work. He had been so stressed. Fixing a deal with a client. It costed him blood, sweat and tears. He left the office. Took his car. Started driving. His mind in another world. Then he reached the spot where she must have been walking. He closed his eyes. Maybe when he opened them again, the reality would be different. He tried. He failed. In the corridor voices were talking. He could not understand what they were saying. The police came and asked him some questions. He replied. Short answers. They made a report.

In the morning he had to leave her. She still was not responding. He went home. Took a shower. The water came down. Running alongside his skin. He tried to shut his mind. Concentrated on the water only. Avalanche of emotions within. Then he started to cry. Tears running down. He was afraid. What if she would never be conscious again? He felt awful. Needed a cup of coffee and a cigarette. Could not eat. His fingers were trembling. His apartment seemed cold. He felt that he was not alone. Someone was staring at him. At least that is what he sensed. He took a blanket from the couch. It gave him warmth. Grabbed his mobile. No call from the hospital. He tried to sleep. A bit.

Like a statue. She was. The doctor could not find the cause of her unconscious state. In a coma. So terrible. Her situation was monitored. By the minute. Now and then a nurse came into her room. The police had found her handbag with her mobile phone. They tried to reach her family. Someone answered the phone. It was a friend. He heard the news about her accident. He gave her personal data to the police so that they could identify her. She was in her mid-thirties. An attractive woman. In her handbag they found the keys of her apartment. The night was falling. She was pale. The white color of the walls mingled with the color of her skin. The sound of the monitoring device filled the room ...

By Liesbeth Leysen

Professional Writer and Certified Coach

Spoken version: http://vocaroo.com/i/s1iFnATb1KQW