Alewife Station, 5:30 p.m.

1811371949_8bdbd2f3ae_o

Danny McCormick looked down at the bloodstained tracks at Alewife Station. The police cleaned up as much as they could. You couldn’t tell anything happened there unless you really looked, unless you remembered where you left her.

Danny remembered. He remembered the awful, deafening screech of the train’s brakes. He remembered the screams. He remembered running down the stairs.

He used what was left on his Charlie Card to walk her to the track. To make sure she was all right. Then he left her there.

He left her there.

The last thing she said was, “I’m gonna make things right.” There was a certainty in her overflowing blue eyes, shining with the reflection of the subway station’s lights.

Andrea was making strides in her recovery. At the 4:00 meeting she received a coin commemorating her 60 days of sobriety.

“It’s been the hahdest thing I ever done, but I’ll do anything to get Sydney back,” she paused, wiping tears away.

Whenever a woman at the meeting didn’t have a ride, Danny walked her to the T to make sure she got there safely. There was safety in numbers at the T station. Even though Danny hated crowds, he knew people were safer in one.

Danny touched Andrea’s shoulder. “Yahalready makin’ things right. I’ll see ya at the Tuesday meetin’. You have my numbah, right?”

She nodded. “Thanks Danny.”

No… that was the last thing she said.

Thanks Danny.

As he stared at the tracks, his eyes welled up with tears. He eyed the red “Danger – Third Rail” sign posted above them. He clenched his teeth.

Was that the last thing she said?

“No problem. Take ceah,” Danny said, turning around to leave the station. He almost forgot that it was rush hour. He knew the station would get busy when the next train came, unloading thousands of commuters getting off from work in Boston. Danny wanted to beat the crowds out of the station.

As he reached the top of the stairs the thunder of the arriving train filled the station. This was a sound Danny was so familiar with. He was also accustomed to the soft screech of the train’s brakes. Loud sounds made him nervous, but the sounds of the T became everyday sounds that fell into the background of his life.

But then the screech grew louder and didn’t stop. Danny immediately clenched his teeth because of the sound. Then he heard the screams.

He turned and ran back down the stairs. He couldn’t see her. He saw mothers covering their children’s eyes. He saw old men pointing down at the rails. Then the wide-eyed college students, speechless, covering their mouths in shock.

“Call 911! There’s a woman under the train!” A young man in a suit dialed frantically on his iPhone.

No.

No.

No.

He left her there.

Thanks Danny.