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Fighter

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Mari had the green light and was crossing the street until a huge oil truck came barreling down the hill and slammed into her car.

 

"Mari, no!" I screamed and started to open the door to run and help her.

 

Corbin pulled me back. "Lux, no."

 

"I have to go help her." Tears came to my eyes as I realized that no one could have survived a collision like that.

 

"Your safety is more important. I'm sure Mari is fine." He sad as he touched my hand. A few seconds later he reached across me and closed my door.

 

The driver of the truck screeched onto his brakes, but the truck continued to speed about halfway down the block before it came to a stop and burst into flames.

 

I saw a man fall out of the truck and start searching for a way he could get Mari out of the car. He pulled out his phone, and started dialing 9-1-1. Another man appeared from behind the tanker of the truck. I took a brief look at him, but had to freeze and look back when I registered who he was.

 

My father.

 

He was charging towards us, his hands balled into fists, his eyes locked on the front bumper of Corbin's car.

 

Corbin calmly started to back up and turn around, but my father started to run.

 

"How does he know it's me?" I asked as Corbin sped down the street. I looked in the rear-viewmirror and saw my father running down the middle of the street, making cars swerve and hit other cars trying to avoid him. His reflection was soon replaced by the flashing lights of police cars. "Corbin, slow down. The police are chasing us."

 

"If I slow down your father catches up to us." Corbin didn't take is eyes off of the road as he maneuvered through the heavy rush-hour traffic.

 

About three blocks later, the police had set up a blockade, forcing Corbin to stop.

 

"I'm trying to protect my girlfriend from her abusive father." Corbin got out and tried to explain, holding me close to him.

 

My father showed up and reached out to grab my arm as the police turned away to copy our license plate.

 

Corbin pulled me away from my fathers grasp.

 

"You, you ungrateful, disrespectful child. You are coming home with me now." He grabbed my arm and held it with a firm grip.

 

"No, I don't want to go home." I tried to pull my arm away, but the more I tried, the tighter his grip got.

 

"You're coming home, dead or alive." My father reached into his pocket and pulled out a blade.

 

I froze, unsure of what to do as it moved towards me. I was suddenly knocked to the ground. I looked up just in time to see the knife penetrate Corbin's skin. The shiny silver tip strongly contrasted with the dark fabric of his jacket.

 

Everything around us froze, the people, the cars, the police, everything.

 

He looked over at me as he fell, seemingly in slow motion.

 

I put my hand out to catch his head as it fell as the officer ran to my side and my father ran down the street.

 

"What happened, miss?" He stooped down next to me.

 

"My father pulled out a knife, trying to stab me, and he pushed me out of the way." Tears poured out of my eyes and down my cheeks. I put my hand on his cheek, causing him to open his eyes. "Corbin, please, don't you dare leave me."

 

His hand slowly moved to mine, and he squeezed it as he made a small smile. "I'm not going anywhere."

 

The ambulance pulled up, and the EMT's jumped out, pulling a stretcher and other medical equipment with them. They gently moved me away from him so they could check his vital signs and stabilize him so they could put him on the stretcher and take him to the hospital. Once they placed him inside and had someone watching him, the other EMT guided me into the ambulance and into the corner out of the way but in Corbin's view. Fifteen minutes later, we were at the hospital. The doctors outside directed me to the waiting room and disappeared through the giant swinging doors for the next thirty minutes.

 

I sat staring at the floor with dry tears on my face, jumping and snapping my head toward the door everyone went through it and avoiding eye contact with the other people in the room for the duration of my wait until a person in scrubs sat down next to me.

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