Chapter Five: 'Oh my God, Pookie, is that—'

Looking up at the streetlight I was trying to make out figures of it. I could see Roger's face. He'd be so ashamed of me. If I could just see him one last time to tell him how truly sorry I was for being so foolish. The sounds of horns and boots clanking against the hard concrete behind me was all I could hear. The smell of exhaust fumes and piss lurked in the air, it filled my burning nostrils. Every inch of my body ached. I was weak—emotionally, physically, physiologically…that's why I needed Roger. I needed someone to punish me…someone to help me. He doesn't care about me anymore. He has disowned me. That's another great reason on my list of excuses to die.

The noises of faint conversations began to sink in. All of the sudden, out of the blue, my ears automatically tuned to a familiar voice, the welcoming, shuddering shriek of the drama queen.

"Oh my God, Pookie, is that—"

"Mimi!" The lawyer shouted. The footsteps raced nearer and nearer.

"Mimi? Oh my God, Mimi! Can you hear me?" Joanne rambled. I weakly nodded my head. My own head became too heavy for me to hold up.

"Mimi, we're taking you to the hospital." Maureen insisted. I shook my head. Joanne's face shrunk.

"Roger…" I managed to mumble. Maureen looked at Joanne with a worried gaze.

"It's what she wants." Joanne muttered. Finally, someone who understood me.

"But we can take her to the hospital and call Roger there!"

"No…if it's Roger she wants…its Roger she gets."

"She can get Roger at a hospital!" Maureen fussed.

"No…" I heaved. Joanne looked up at Maureen with a smirk spread on her lips.

"We need to move fast…" Jo ordered. My eyelids longed to close. I barely heard the last few words Joanne had to say before I fell unconscious for a moment. "…she doesn't have much time…"

Startling me awake without another word, Maureen helped Joanne lift my weak body off of the ground. Maureen sighed when she took her hand under my thighs. My eyes shot open, looking wildly at the two women. Maureen had a disgruntled look upon her face.

"She's soaked."

"We need to move quickly." Joanne remarked. Things began to grow dimmer. I snuggled in tightly against Joanne's chest. Right when I was about to fall asleep, Maureen began to scream. I shut my eyes. The loud screech of her voice made my head pound.

"Mark?" Maureen shouted. "Roger?" She shouted again. He really was back. At least my wish was granted. "Anyone? Help!" She screamed. I saw the boys ran out on the balcony. I sighed with relief to see his small figure up there. "We can't get her up the stairs. Hurry up, please!" Maureen yelled. They were down the stairs in a matter of seconds. I felt two of them take me in their arms.

"She's been living on the street. We found her in the park, she wanted to come here." Joanne explained.

They carried me up the stairs all of the way to the loft. I heard the door slide open.

"No room on the couch!"

"Uh…just clear off the table. We'll put her there." Mark responded. There was shuffling, clanking and scratching.

"Roger…" I murmured weakly. He put me on the table.

"I'm back. I'm back…" He said softly. It was so comforting to hear his voice again.

"Rog!" Collins yelped, giving me his jacket for heat.

"We need some heat…" Roger demanded.

"Okay, I'll find some wood and some food." Mark said, running to the door.

"Too late for that, man I'm calling 911." Collins said. Roger took a seat at my side, his broad hand on my cheek.

"I'm right here! I'm right here! It's okay…" He mumbled to me. His soothing words warmed my heart, but the rest of my body remained partially numb. "Here, we got you…we got you…" He muttered stroking my hair out of my face. I felt of his rough face just to make sure I wasn't dreaming.

"I should tell you, I should tell you…" I sang weakly. I could see Roger's heart melt in his eyes. I clenched his leather jacket with all of my strength. He smirked at me.

"I should tell you, I should tell you…" He quietly sang back. I swallowed hard, hoping to take a terrible taste out of my mouth.

"I should tell you, Benny wasn't any—"

"Shhh…I know…I should tell you why I left, it wasn't 'cause I didn't—"

" I know," I interrupted him. "I should tell you…"

"I should tell you."

"I should tell you…I…love…you…" I whispered. It burned my throat but I was finally able to talk to him one last time.

"Who do you t h i n k y o u a r e…" He began to speak but the words got longer as he went on. Soon, I couldn't hear much. He was singing me a song…the song it took him the whole year to write. His voice was so warming but I could feel nothing. I was sweating but I was cold. Roger continued to sing…he really cared.

A/N: The spacing in Roger's last line of the paragraph was meant to be this way to signify that the speech is growing further and further apart.

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