How on Earth would I go about talking to Luke about this? If I didn't talk to him, then how would I be able to hide what I knew about him? How would I hide the expression on my face? Hell, even if Luke had told me himself, what on Earth would he have expected me to do with such information? Question after question, my brain became overwhelmed. I sighed heavily and once again scanned some more files on the screen, all of which contained more or less of the same thing. More pictures or drawings of males being held, or diapered, or fed, by what appeared to be a loving, nurturing woman. The stories were also similar.

Luke"¦really? Is this what you've been hiding? This is what you wanted me to erase?

It was about an hour later when I decided to call it a night. I was still perplexed about the whole thing and had no idea what to do once Luke got better. He was the greatest friend a woman could ask for, but even I had my limits. That could've been why he was always so hesitant to tell me, though. Maybe he knew I'd freak out and react poorly. I didn't know, and honestly, didn't care at that time of night. I plopped onto my bed, with the question, "Why?" dancing through my head.

I (barely) awoke the next morning at around 10. I couldn't remember what time I fell asleep or if I even slept at all. I did the first thing almost everyone does these days when they wake up: checked my phone. Somehow, Id missed a call! If you don't know me, then you don't know that I never miss a call or a text message. And yet, on that particular night, I missed one. It was from Mrs. Thompson. She had let me know that Luke had woken up! I didn't know how to react. A smile swept across my face and I let out a sigh of relief, but I also dreaded the thought of knowing that I now knew Luke's secret, without him realizing it (not to mention, I just deleted a ton of his files).

I quickly called Mrs. Thompson. Within two rings, she answered with a, "Hi, Molly!"

"Hi, Mrs. Thompson, I just got your message! I'm so glad Luke came around!"

"I know! It's truly a miracle! The doctor says he has a long way to go, but he didn't suffer any brain injuries. He wanted us to tell you that he's "˜fine', and I figured you'd want to see him."

Of course I wanted to see him, but part of me felt it'd be awkward. Perhaps Luke would have been too medicated to notice that something was off, though.

"Of course, Mrs. Thompson. I just need to freshen up and I'll head right down. Tell him I'm on my way!"

Within a matter of minutes, I was dressed and ready to go. I made a mental note to gather Luke's Christmas gifts as well: a collector's edition release of his favorite heavy rock band, a new MP3 player so he could listen to said band, and what most would call a sappy letter about how glad I was to have him in my life and that I wouldn't trade his friendship for the world"¦I hesitated giving the letter to him, but decided to bring it with me anyway.

It would be an interesting visit with Luke, to say the least. The only problem was that I didn't know if "interesting" would be good or bad.

* * *

I don't remember falling asleep, but apparently I did for a few hours, according to the doctor and my mom. Dad came in shortly after, holding what I recognized as my Christmas gifts. A brief wave of excitement was shot down as I tried to sit up, forgetting that I was in pain. I looked over to my right arm and saw that it was in a cast. My chest was wrapped in bandages, and surprisingly, my legs appeared to be and feel fine.

"Easy, Luke!"

"Damn it," I groaned, slinking back into my hospital bed as I looked around the room, "hey. Where's Molly? Did she come in while I was asleep?"

"You know, she said she was on her w-" Mom started.

"-I'm here." I heard Molly's voice call from the hallway.

I motioned for mom and dad to move to make room for Molly. One thing you ought to know about me is that I have this odd way of playing out fantasies in my head. My "fantasy" about Molly coming in was that she'd first enter with a smile, then her lip would quiver, she'd cry, "Oh, Luke!" and would hug me, telling me how glad she was that I was okay. However, things didn't go quite as I'd hoped.

"Molly!" I said with a short breath, taking my time sitting up this time around.

"Hi, Luke." I could hear the shakiness of her voice as she let out a little gasp.

At that moment, I didn't know why she was so upset. You'd think someone would be happy to see you survived a car crash. What everybody failed to tell (or show) me at the time was that the left side of my face looked like I'd been in a fist fight"¦with freight trains.

"Jesus," Molly whispered as a few tears fell from her eyes, "does it hurt?"

"A little," I lied, "but whatever they're giving me makes me feel like I'm flying."

She let out a light chuckle, but didn't smile. I looked over to my parents and nodded, indicating I wanted them to leave. They took the hint and promptly exited the room, leaving the door ajar, leaving me alone with Molly, who still looked a little upset.

"What a way to spend Christmas."

"Luke, I just," Molly stammered, "don't know what to say. I thought you weren't going to make it, and"¦"

I reached out and gently put my hand in Molly's.

"I know. I didn't think I was going to make it, either. And I'm sorry." I said weakly. "I shouldn't have put you through that, asking to keep your promise, but, given the circumstances-"

"-it's alright, Luke," Molly's tone of voice changed from sympathetic to rather bland, and she pulled her hand away abruptly, "I did what you asked."

Maybe it was the medicine they were giving me, or maybe I was just paranoid, but I swore I saw Molly's eyes look at me in a way they never had before.

They'd gone from sympathetic and warm to blank. Was she mad at me for still not telling her, or for making her think I would die?

"Thank you."

A prompt, "No problem" escaped her lips, rather than the "You're welcome" I expected. Something was amiss. Did she go through my files?

There was an unusually awkward moment of silence between us, which ended by my telling Molly about her gifts. I called my parents back in and asked Dad if he'd recovered my gifts, to which he nodded and said, "I'll go get the box you wrapped for Molly."

"Luke, we don't need to do this here. We can wait." Molly said quietly.

"Nonsense. I'm going to be here until at least next week." I argued with a smile.

Molly nodded and exited the room quickly, then entered with a gift bag. Soon after, Dad showed up with my terribly wrapped box and my not-so-terrible-looking gift bag. For whatever reason, I could never master the art of wrapping gifts. Give me a CD or a movie, and I'm awesome. Give me anything larger than that, and my work looks like a five year old's. Dad then exited the room once more, leaving Molly and I to ourselves.

"You first, Luke." Molly insisted, again with a hint of distance in her voice.

I nodded and sat up so I could better open my gift. Molly had definitely taken her time wrapping them! Unlike my "stuff everything into the bottom of the bag and crumple up tissue paper on top of it" technique, Molly individually wrapped whatever she had bought me with the tissue paper itself! I first opened the small rectangular gift, which turned out to be a brand new MP3 player! It claimed to have 30+ hours of battery life and could support most video and audio file formats. As if that weren't a good enough gift, the next present was the newest album from my long-time favorite band, The Shards! I'd been eyeing the album for months, and for some reason was too reluctant to downloa-er, purchase it! Heh.

"Molly, this is awesome! Thank you! Now I'll have something to do while I recover!"

"You're welcome, Luke." Her expression, as if being run by a light switch, changed once again from blank to a smile.

I pointed over to the gifts I'd bought for Molly, and she promptly took them in her arms. I'd placed the letter I'd written her in the gift bag, and despite feeling good from the painkillers, I was still nervous when I saw her rifle through the bag. She pulled out the movie tickets first, and thanked me. She then pulled out the vanilla colored envelope.

"That's something you can either read now or read when you get home. It's up to you."

Quite honestly, I didn't want her to read it in my presence. I figured if something in the letter upset her, she'd have some time alone to think about some of it, then cool off and ask me questions later.

"I'll read it later."

Another rather flat response. Something was off.

"Hey, Molly. Are you alright?" I asked, concerned.

"Yeah. Just stressed from the Holidays." She lied once more.

Molly isn't a good liar"¦at least, to me, she isn't. Sure, she knows how to hide what she's thinking from most people, but after knowing her for so long, it's never hard to tell when something is troubling her.

"You're sure? Nothing else is bothering you?"

"Well"¦" she paused for a moment. "I-I'm sorry, I think I have to go."

With her gifts and my letter hand, Molly turned to leave.

"H-hey, c'mon, Molly. What's wrong?" I asked once more.

"I'm sorry, Luke." she turned once more with watery eyes, and then promptly left the room.

That was the last time I saw her while I was in the hospital.