I look at you and I can barely keep it together. I want to curl up  with you and cry. I want to rid myself of the hurt and the pain- the doubts and unknowns. I want to be weak. I want to let you be strong. I want to expose my true self, raw and wounded. I want to believ you can take all my troubles away. I want to be vulnerable, and open and I want to know that you will protect me. I want your arms to be my safe place. I want all of this- any of this- to be real. It's not. You'...

She bowed her head and lit her cigarette with a match, the acrid smell of sulfer stinging her nose. She watched the match burn down to her fingertips before shaking it out and taking a deep drag of the filtered Marlboro. It burned her throat, bitter and harsh. She hadn't had a cigarette in 3 months but today she needed one, as she sat on the curb outside Fire House 121, trying to ignore the tremble in her hands and the tears welling up behind her eyes. She refused to cry. McCain women do not ...

I look at you and I can barely keep it together. I want to curl up safe in your arms and cry. Cleanse myself of the hurt and the pain the doubts and unknowns. I want to be weak, in your strength. I want to expose my true self, raw and wounded and let you take all my troubles away. I want to be vulnerable, and open and know that you will protect me. But I cant, I can't trust you, I can't let you that close, for at night, when you roll in your sleep, you sigh, it is her name on your lips and my...

Aug 23, 2005 Its been a busy night. We’ve only been on shift for 5 hours and we’ve already had a DOA and a 5 person multiple-casualty incident (MCI) in South Central. The day started slow. My partner and I stood around the station and did nothing, totally useless for almost an hour until another crew came off-shift and gave us their rig. Well really, they brought us our rig. Her name is Antigone, not so much after the famous Greek play, but after one of me and my partner’s favorite band, Anti...

My life has come to this, I sit, unable to move, the pain, like burning embers, inside my body, leaving scars of smoke. My life has come to this, I sit, unable to close my eyes, I watch you walk away, never looking back. My life has come to this, I smile, and wave goodbye, vainly clutching my dignity, the only thing I have left.

I look at you and I can barely keep it together. I want to curl up safe in your arms and cry. Cleanse myself of the hurt and the pain the doubts and unknowns. I want to be weak, in your strength. I want to expose my true self, raw and wounded and let you take all my troubles away. I want to be vulnerable, and open and know that you will protect me. But I cant, I can't trust you, I can't let you that close. One day you will walk away from me, and who will be there then, but me?

She bowed her head and lit her cigarette with a match. She let the match burn itself down to her fingertips before shaking it out and taking a deep drag of the filtered Marlboro. It burned her throat, bitter and harsh. She hadn't had a cigarette in 3 months but she need one today to help ignore the tremble in her hands and the tears welling up behind her eyes. She refused to cry. McCain women do not cry. They rage, they bitch, they nag and they brawl, but they most certainly do not cry. She t...

She bowed her head and lit her cigarette with a match. She let the match burn itself down to her fingertips before shaking it out and taking a deep drag of the filtered Marlboro. She ignored the tremble in her hands as easily as she ignored the tears welling up behind her eyes. She refused to cry. O’Reilly women do not cry. They rage, they bitch, they nag and they brawl, but they most certainly do not cry. She took another drag. Her hair fell into her face and she impatiently rewound it into...

It started as a normal night. My partner and I ate, and talked, drove around, nothing big. Then a call goes out in an area we normally don’t cover. We respond, lights, siren, the whole nine yards. As my partner throws the rig into park, I jump out and open the back doors. A Paramedic rounds the corner of my ambulance and climbs in, a blue toddler in his arms. He lays her on the gurney and I see a thin red welt snaking its way across her neck, from one tiny studded ear to the other. I see the ...

"It's a beautiful night." I say, tilting my head back and taking in the star-studded sky. Ryan takes a drag off his cigarette and grunts. We are leaned up against the ambulance in a tiny patch of comunity grass. A siren wails in the distance and Ryan cocks his head toward the sound. "P.D." he judges, "Going up Prairie." I nod and the radio crackles. Opening the passenger door I hear a call for a gunshot wound dispatched. Ryan takes a last drag and says, "Jump it." He flicks his cigarette away...