Good Intentions

Meghan’s POV

I am told we are finished gathering the information needed. I am no longer needed to sit, watch and take notes. We have all we need, now it will be just waiting for the perfect time.

I want to question the memory of the dandelions but fear keeps me from doing it. Fear from questioning or fear of the answer, I don't know.
The entire family makes the trip this time. A one way ticket is purchased and car rental set up for the drive home.
I'm unsure how all of this is really supposed to go down. I just play my part.

He seems so nice and friendly, I hate I have to deceive him.I just cant think of it that way, I’ll have to find another way to think of it. As much as my mind plays around with it, there is no other way to look at it, deception.

We sit and wait. According to everything that been noted and observed, today is the day.

I get out of the vehicle and make my way in his direction. I hear the door close again behind me, my help. I step into the small side street and wait. I give myself plenty of room and run as fast as I can, sliding knees first into the pavement, There will be no need for fake crying or acting skills, this really hurts. I lay there catching my breath. I look, and the palms of my hands are torn up. I hear footsteps stop but I’m too busy looking at all the damage to notice who it is. He stoops down and I see his hands take my arm trying to help me up. I look down and I’ve even ripped my jeans. Blood already soaking through my jeans. I really did not mean to cause that much damage to myself. I have trouble getting up so he holds my hands and helps pick the gravel out of my wounds, he’s so gentle. He tells me he’s going to come behind me and help me get up. His hands are on my waist stabilizing me as I rise. I slowly come up and am able to stand. I hear faint footsteps behind me. I turn as I see needle plunged into his hip. He collapses but do to my injuries I am not able to help much in catching him. He falls to the ground, his head hitting a piece of a concrete step on the way down. Its as if I see it all in slow motion. I see his head bounce off the step and land on the pavement. This is going all wrong. The SUV pulls up and my mom is there to help put him in. Blood is seeping from his head. I’m handed a towel to put on it.

My dad makes a few phone calls and we are set to meet with a doctor who can stitch him up. Upon arriving I learn quickly, this is no doctor. He was possibly a medic in the army, maybe. He comes out to us to do the stitches there. He hands my mom a pair of scissors and instructs her to cut his hair while he gets things together. She cuts his hair, her hands shaking. His hair placed in a brown paper sack and burned. I almost cry aloud. The sound of the razor brings me back as he shaves the area around the gash. I am unable to watch as he stitches him up and cleans the area. He places gauze over it and tells me to apply pressure. His head lays in my lap as I quietly cry, holding the gauze firmly to the area. The guy then throws some medicated ointment and band aids towards me for my wounds.. I see money exchange hands and a hand shake. My dad climbs in at the drivers seat and we start to head back to North Dakota.

The drive is long and hard. We stop only to use the restroom or to get something to snack on. I am concerned for him, he has shown no signs of waking up. I check him regularly to see if he’s breathing, he is.
We arrive back at our farm in the middle of the night. It takes both my dad and mom to get him in the house.

I stand in the doorway as he in undressed. My dad mumbles at the tattoos he sees on his body. I turn my head as his underwear is removed, even though the urge to look is almost unbearable. He is dressed and pulled up on the bed, covered up and left to sleep. After they leave the room I gather his clothes and put them in a bag and take it out to the trash to be burned later. I go back in and look at him. He’s beautiful. I hate they had to cut his hair. I hear my parents in the kitchen talking about the next phase. I reach out and touch his face almost scared I’ll wake him, but he doesn’t flinch. I look to the door to see if I can see them and bend over slightly and kiss his lips and tell him, "I'm sorry".

I step back and walk backwards out of the room to make sure I don’t miss it if he wakes up.

Notes