One step.
Another.
The cold air stings my face as I peer over the edge.
Below, the river is a broken, slick sheet of darkness. A jagged hole gapes in the ice, its edges splintered and shattered like glass. The water below churns, swallowing the last traces of the sacrifice I just offered it. Then it settles into a black, eerie stillness.
There’s no sign of him.
He’s gone.
I think I killed him.
The world comes back inpieces.
The cold.
The throbbing in my jaw.
The ice beneath my aching body.
Jackson.
I sit up with a groan and see him standing at the edge of the bridge, gripping the stone railing like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. His breath is coming too fast. His entire body shakes. Every inch of him looks like he’s one wrong exhale away from shattering.
I don’t see Richard.
Pushing myself to my feet, I ignore my own pain and the way the ground tilts. My legs feel unsteady, but I force them forward.
When I reach him, I extend my hand slowly, touching him lightly on the back.
“Jackson.”
It doesn’t take more than a whisper for him to turn and face me. He hardly blinks, his eyes as glassy as the ice beneath us. He lets me put my hands on his arms so I can feel him, needing to make sure he’s safe.
“I…I think I k-killed him.”
Good fucking riddance.
But I don’t think that’s what he needs to hear right now.
“It was self-defense,” I say instead. “He was going to hurt you.”
I saw it. Saw Richard on top of him. Saw his hands where they should never have been. Saw the terror on Jackson’s face. I’ll never forget the sound of his shouts as I ran for the bridge like the ground behind me was collapsing.
If Jackson hadn’t pushed him, I would have.
And I wouldn’t have lost a second of sleep over it.
He nods like my words are the easiest thing to accept. He glances briefly down to the river and then back to me, a determined set to his jaw.
“I’m not sorry.”
If it’s wrong to smile at that, I don’t care. I do anyway. Relief hits so hard my knees almost buckle. Because maybe this means he won’t live the rest of his life with guilt over this, that he won’t replay this night over and over until he’s a hollow shell of who he is now.
Both my hands move from his arms to either side of his face, and I lean my forehead against his. “Good.”
“We should call someone though, right?” He pulls back to peer down at the river again, then swallows.
