The Day I Stopped Saving Her

The crash hit before I could take another breath.

Metal screamed. Glass exploded. And Brenda? She bolted toward the wreck.

She dropped to her knees beside the body on the pavement, screaming over her shoulder, "Forget the damn car, call 911!"

Her face was done up perfect, full glam, as she pumped the victim's chest, blood soaking into her expensive little top. Anyone watching would've called her a hero.

The ambulance rolled up—and so did the press.

She spun on the cameras, eyes blazing. "Are you people serious? You're filming right now? Get out of the way—she needs help!"

Then she turned back to the paramedics, rattling off compression times like she'd been doing this her whole life, grabbing one by the arm. "Doc, you have to save her, please!"

The medic nodded, caught up in her act. "We'll do everything we can. You know her family?"

Brenda shook her head, all wide-eyed innocence. "I'm just a bystander. But I'll ride with you—I'll cover her hospital bills."

The guy called her a saint, waved her into the ambulance.

She climbed in—and the second nobody was looking, she palmed the victim's phone into her pocket.

I watched the ambulance peel out. Waited a half hour.

Then a black sedan rolled to a stop at the corner. Gray suit stepped out—familiar face. Joseph's underboss. He scanned the scene, jaw tight, then walked over to talk to the cops.

I pulled out my phone and texted Brenda.

[Saw you on TV. What the hell did you do?]

She fired back fast: [None of your business.]

I read those four words and smiled.

Brenda'd read too many mafia romance novels. Thought every rich, handsome guy with power was stupid.

When Joseph pulled her out of that riot, she fell hard. Started digging into him, picturing some epic love story with a Don.

Then she ran into him again at the restaurant, went up to thank him—and found out the only reason he'd saved her was because she reminded him of Maria when she was young.

And after that night, he never came back.

So I figured she'd let the dream die.

But no. She'd gone past dreaming—she was ready to erase Maria.

Last life, I tried to talk her down. Told her she was playing with fire. And she put me in the ground for it.

This time? I had to do things different.

I was heading home when the hospital called. Said a patient needed blood—was I available?

Brenda and I both had that rare type. They had our numbers on file.

I didn't think twice. Went straight there.

Turns out the patient was Joseph's wife.

After they drew my blood, I walked into the waiting room.

Brenda saw me and froze. "What are you doing here?"

I sat down. "Heard somebody needed the type. Figured I'd help."

I shot her a look. "What about you? How'd you end up at that scene?"

Last time around, I'd warned her over and over—even told her I'd go to the cops if she went through with it.

She must've been worried I'd catch on. "Just... happened to be passing by."

I gave a little "hmm," leaned back, closed my eyes like I was resting.

But Brenda couldn't help herself. She leaned in, smug as hell.

"Sharon... you know that woman's Don Joseph's wife, right? He told me I look just like her when she was young. Once she's gone, I'm the next Mrs. Genovese."

I couldn't help myself. "You read too many romance novels. You really think becoming a Donna's that easy?"