That’s when I know what I have to do.
Emma never mentioned a note before.
This was the first time Emma ever saw the note.
In haste I unfold it, eyes running over the painful words. Emma would never forgive herself if she read this.
I can’t show her this. I can’t tell her Mallory jumped because it would crush her. I know Emma. She’ll blame herself, and it will break her heart.
I wouldn’t just be losing her now. I’d be losing every version of her because the way she’s fading in front of me has me worried she won’t exist in the future if I show her the note.
I tear the paper, shredding it to bits, and hurl the pieces off the bridge. They flutter down to the water.
“What are you doing?” Emma yells, scrambling up to her feet.
My chest heaves as I take a look at her. The fading stops and the fullness of her body returns to normal.
I wrap my hand around her wrist, pulling her into a hug. A hug of desperation and fear.
My skin is on fire and my ears are ringing, but I know what I have to do. I can’t let Emma, my Emma, hate herself. Itall makes sense now—everything she told me about the past and the future. I understand what happened that night. “I’m sorry.”
I’ll give her something to hate.
“Tell me what’s going on.”
I gulp and push her toward the wall.
“Myles, stop! What are you doing?”
“What I have to.” I shake my head, every limb shaking because I’m so terrified of what I’m doing. “Go save your sister.”
She pushes back, but I’m too strong. I shove her closer to the wall and she screams as her body hangs over the ledge.
I take a deep breath and push her body off.
My heart races as her scream fills the air, cracking and sending goosebumps up my arms. I lean over the wall, afraid I’ve made a terrible decision, but my heart calms when she’s nowhere in sight.
“What did you do?” a voice shrieks behind me.
My heart leaps into my throat and I whip my head around to see Emma, again. She’s running toward me dressed in the same clothes I saw her wearing at the gas station.
My heart won’t slow down as I rip my gaze from her to my hands, in pure disbelief that I pushed her off the bridge.
“What did you do?” Emma runs into me, screaming. Her fists beat against my chest and her hands slap my face, but it doesn’t matter.
My nerves began to ease. It guts me to see the pain on her face, but this is the way things are supposed to be.
I want nothing more than to console her. To tell her she’ll be okay, but letting her hit me will have to do.
Relief floods through me because I know the truth.
I never threw Mallory over the bridge. This whole time, it was Emma, and I let the world believe it was Mallory to save them both.
Emma needed something to hate, so I gave her the only thing I could.
Me.
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