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britwrit@juno.com The Rooftop
I shouldn't be mad at you,
but I am.
Enraged. Furious. Livid. Incensed.
Shakeyouuntilyourteethrattle,somadIcouldspit MAD.
WHAT were you thinking?
You WEREN'T thinking, were you?
And therein lies the problem, pal.
Aw, Starsk...
If you had waited one more second, hell - one more
millisecond...
I'd be dead.
He'd be alive
and I'd be the one laying in a puddle of my own blood
on this crummy rooftop.
But...
then you would have the answer.
Who said YOU get to make these kind of decisions for US, huh?
Who said you get to die and I have to go on living...
Without you.
Think, Starsky, think!
How many times have I told you that?
If you had really thought about it and waited before pulling the
trigger,
you would have remembered that he held the key -
instead of reacting from your gut and shooting him...
...protecting me, giving up everything for me.
Damn you.
What right do you have to put me ahead of yourself?
What gives you the right to make me go on alone?
"It seemed like a good idea at the time".
Dammit Starsk!
You can't die now, not while I'm still this ticked off at you.
I'm here...just hang on.
Hang on so I can kill you myself when this is all over.
THE END