Dazed, Venetia lifts her head from the airbag. Someone’s just swerved in front of her car and she’s gone into the side of theirs. What the…the baby is wailing from the back. Still in the footwell, inside a bag of laundry. She yanks open her door and stumbles into the dusk. That’s when she recognizes the other car. Felipe’s. Realization dawns. He did it on purpose. Pulled in front of her to stop her. She truly didn’t know he had it in him. She grabs the tire iron and the knife from the passenger seat then yanks open the back door and scoops the crying baby out of the holdall. The car isn’t going anywhere. But Venetia is.
This does not end here.
Felipe is out of his car, stumbling toward her, hand on the back of his head. There’s blood. His own fault. He’s calling her name. And from behind, another faraway shout. Venetia swivels her head. Susan O’Donnell in the distance, limping, shrieking. For fuck’s sake. She turns back. Felipe is close now, blood on his hand as he reaches for her. No, not for her, for the baby. That’s what he wants. To save Susan O’Donnell’s baby. Rage fills her. With the baby under her right arm, she raises the tire iron high.Felipe doesn’t see it coming. She gets him across the temple and he drops like a stone. She turns back. Susan is closer now. And other people. People not far behind, running. Fuck. Fuck it. Maybe this does end here. For Susan O’Donnell, for the baby.
She lays the baby on the ground and kneels beside it, sitting back on her heels. Its cry has reduced to a whimpering sob, exhausted now.
“It’s nearly over,” she whispers. “You’re too small to understand. And it’s not your fault, it’s your mother’s fault.” She pauses, staring at its confused face. It really isn’t the baby’s fault. But then, it wasn’t Aimee’s either. Resolute again. “You won’t suffer. It will be quick. But Susan will suffer, and that’s what counts. This is for Aimee’s lost baby.”
She kneels upright now, stretching. The baby laid out in front of her, like a sacrifice on an altar. She takes one look at Susan. Takes in the horror on her face as she limps toward them as fast as she can, but not fast enough. There’s still enough space between them. Venetia smiles at Susan. Raises the knife high over the baby. Exalted. Adrenaline coursing through her. For Susan and Susan’s baby, this ends here.
104
Susan
Thursday
Like the worst nightmare, it unfolds in front of my eyes, so near but so far. I’m screaming, hobbling, running through pain. Venetia is demonic now, lit by a streetlight, a smile on her face, knife in both hands, high above Bella. Felipe is on the ground beside them, unconscious maybe.
If I can just…but I can’t, I’m too far and she’s lowering the knife now, and I can’t…I can’t make it, I have to but I can’t and then oh my god, Felipe…he’s there, still on the ground, but he’s shoved himself somehow, thrown himself on top of Bella, and I’m still running and the knife comes down and makes contact but…but it’s in Felipe’s back, oh god, she’s stabbed Felipe, and he’s on Bella, lying across Bella, and I keep running. Venetia is…she’s trying to pull the knife out of his back. It’s not over. But I’m here now and I can help…the tire iron, on the ground. I grab it and, with no warning, no mercy, no room for error, I smash it across the side of her head and she goes down sideways and she’s…she’s not moving. Out cold, slumped on the ground.
I turn to Felipe, drop to my knees. He rolls to the side and shows meBella, beneath him, not stabbed, not dead, alive. Dazed, silent, but alive. I pull her into my arms. I’m never letting her go. Beside me, Felipe lies on his side, pale and sweating.
“She’s OK,” he whispers.
I swallow, my throat tight, and nod. “She’s OK, she’s OK. Oh my god. Felipe.” My whole body is shaking. I hold Bella close, trying to stop the quiver, but I can’t. “You saved Bella, but we…we need to get you to a hospital.” I look up. People are coming, people are here. Neighbors running, phones out. Already I can hear the distant sound of a siren. I look back at Felipe, take his hand in mine, rubbing it, kneading it. “Help is coming, you’ll be OK.”
His eyes flicker closed. This is not good. I need to keep him awake, keep him talking.
“Stay with me, talk to me…tell me what happened…how did you know where Venetia would be?”
His eyes open again, and he smiles a faint smile, his face pale in the streetlight. “I got it wrong first.” It comes in a whisper. “Venetia, she was furious, in a rage…I thought she would come here, to your house, but…but no. I arrived and there was nobody here. Then I saw your text.” Two shallow exhales. “And wondered if she’d…she’d gone to your sister Leesa’s house. The Instagram post.”
I nod, teeth chattering. People are here now, hunkered, blurred, but I focus only on Bella and Felipe. “Keep going. Tell me the rest.”
“Venetia wasn’t at Leesa’s either, so I came back here. I saw her driving, I saw someone running, I didn’t know for sure if it was you, but somehow I did. So I swerved to stop her…”
People are saying things.Help them. Don’t touch them. Take the baby. No, leave the baby. Wait for the ambulance. Pull out the knife. Don’t go near the knife. Anyone else hurt?
At that, I remember. Oh my god,Greta.
I have to get to Greta. I scan the faces around me, still holding Bella to my chest, still holding Felipe’s hand. I spot Juliette Sullivan.
“Juliette!” I scream. “Go to Greta, get to my house, she’s in the kitchen, unconscious or…or—”Or dead.A sob. What if it’s too late? Was it already too late when I left her? “Call another ambulance. Tell them it’s a heroin overdose.”
Juliette’s jaw drops, but to her eternal credit, she doesn’t ask questions. Her phone at her ear, she begins to run back toward my house.
Someone else, Juliette’s husband I think, puts a blanket over my shoulders, whispering that the ambulance is coming.
I turn back to Felipe. His eyes are closed again.
“You’re going to be OK. You saved Bella. You…you…” I’m sobbing. “You need to stay awake, stay with us.” Sobbing and laughing. “It’s a rule, I’m sure of it. If you save someone. You have to be, like, a life-long guardian.” Whispering now. “She needs you. I need you.”
“She’s going to be OK.” Staccato, hushed words. “She has a great mother…”
Blood soaks his T-shirt and voices around us grow louder, more anxious, as his eyelids flutter open and closed.
“Felipe!Stay with us. Please.” Sirens. “The ambulance. It’s nearly here.” I squeeze his hand. “Please stay with me.”
