You're Still My Favorite Melody

“Wait he broke up with her?” Kate asks, her eyes darting between Pete and I. I make no attempt to answer and Pete sighs.

“That’s what William says. Sabrina on the other hand hasn’t spoken to me since I yelled at her last night,” Pete says, giving me a pointed look. I cross my arms and turn back to the television. Pete had called both Patrick and Kate, because I hadn’t spoken to him since he had found me last night.

“Did you call Patrick?” Kate asks, sitting down next to me.

“He’s running a little late,” he answers and that moment Patrick comes bursting through the door.

“I spoke to William on my way over and he sounded pretty depressed,” Patrick says, giving me a sympathetic look. I ignore him and pull my knees up to my chest, staring blankly at the television.

“He broke up with her. He doesn’t deserve to-” Pete begins, but Patrick glares at him.

“Fine,” Pete mutters, heading off to his room.

“Let’s um...take a car ride and give him some time to cool off,” Patrick says quietly, giving me a hopeful look. I nod slowly and head for the door, while Patrick and Kate exchange hushed words. I ignore them and pull on a jacket, before heading out into the hallway.

I hadn’t spoken to Pete or anyone for that matter, because I wasn’t sure what to say. William had broken up with me, but I couldn’t be angry because it had been my fault entirely. I had never meant to lose William –as a friend or as a boyfriend– but somewhere along the way my thoughts had become so preoccupied with preserving Gabe’s feelings that I had lost him anyway.

I couldn’t blame Gabe, but I wished I could. He was always there at the right time and I was always falling for him. So maybe that was it. Maybe things with William hadn’t worked out because I was already falling for Gabe. And maybe Gabe had been right all along– maybe I did love him. Or maybe I was thinking too much again.

“Sabrina,” Patrick says, shaking my shoulder to get my attention.

“I’m sorry. I was um thinking,” I mumble, following Patrick down the hall. Patrick doesn’t answer and we remain silent until we get to the car. Patrick was one of the few people I knew who owned a car. It was an old beaten up Toyota that he constantly repaired.

“How are you feeling?” Patrick asks, pulling open the passenger door.

“I don’t know,” I mumble. Patrick gets into the driver’s seat and we both put on seat belts. I'm starting to like this ride a little more as I lock the seat belt into place. It secures me into the seat and for the first time in a while I feel safe. Nothing was going to catch me off guard or break my heart in this car.

“I know you’re in a bad place but you can’t dwell on-” Patrick begins, stopping at a red light.

“I hardly think that’s appropriate advice for someone who was just dumped,” I interrupt as the light turns green again.

Patrick slowly presses his foot on the gas pedal and time seems to slow down when I see the other car. It's moving way to quickly to stop at the light and driver doesn't seem to have any intention of slowing down.

“Patrick!” I scream but Patrick doesn’t even get the chance to turn around; the car has already collided with the driver’s side. I fall in and out of consciousness but when I am conscious all I see is blood and flashing lights.