Ch.3----Look at me, see what you've done

"Let him go" comes out of her mouth as she shuts her eyes and moves to the side allowing me access into the apartment. The guards release me immediately; I straighten myself up as I walk inside followed by my mother. I'm angry at Dawn for standing off to the side acting aloof with her eyes shut. I want to watch her; I want to see her reaction to what just happened. Instead of standing there looking like an angel in a pair of old, faded light blue jeans and a simple white tee shirt. Her hair fell in waves until almost midway down her back, the only makeup she wore was lip gloss or maybe she had just licked her lips. Even her feet were bare. She didn't look like someone who could allow their mother to grieve, to allow her fiancée to be arrested for her murder.

"Tracy leave" I say as I start to walk closer to Dawn

"Dawn" my mother begins

"I'll be fine" Dawn says softly

Tracy disappears from the room pretty quickly, but I walk slowly towards Dawn. Her eyes briefly open and seem like they're going to look at me, but she closes them again. "Are you afraid to see what you've done?" I ask. I can hear and see the deep intake of breath that follows that statement. "Afraid to look in the eyes of a man who grieved for you along with your mother, your"

Her eyes flash open, but she turns away "Oh I'm sure you comforted Monica alright."

I grab her arm and turn her back to me; her eyes have closed again "Don't you dare even try to compare Monica and I not telling you we slept together before I ever knew you with you letting us believe you were dead. GOD DAMMIT OPEN YOUR EYES."

With that her eyes open and for the briefest moment, my anger fades and I see my first real love, that sweet young girl who thought I hung the stars until I dashed away all of her dreams of happily ever after. That moment fades almost instantly when I realize although her eyes are open she isn't looking at me. Her eyes are focused in my direction, but she isn't seeing me. She must feel the shock through our physical connection or the stillness the air took on around us. "Why did you have to come Ned?"

Her voice was so raw and tender when she spoke that I wanted to cry. "You can't see me?" I ask even though I knew the answer

"No."

"How?"

"Get hit over the head with a pipe; see what it does to you."

I take her into my arms. I don't know what else to do but that.