“Home,” she screams again. “This fucking house is anything but home.”
She shoves him. Her palms hit his chest hard.
He stumbles.
Then his foot slips.
Time slows as his body tips backward, missing the railing, and rolls down the stairs with a sickening sound of cracks, until he hits the bottom.
“William!” she screams.
She rushes down the stairs.
The bedroom door flies open. Judas bursts inside, shoving past me so fast I barely stay on my feet. I stand frozen, my hand flying to my mouth as my heart slams against my ribs.
Judas takes the stairs two at a time.
“Call 911!” Catherine is screaming as she holds him, her hands shaking, her voice breaking apart.
I step closer.
There is blood. Too much blood.
Judas is already on the floor, his hands searching for a pulse. His shirt, his arms, and his face are smeared with red as he tries to revive him. I force my legs to move and walk down the stairs. When I reach them, I grab Catherine’s arms, trying to pull her back.
“I am a murderer,” she sobs. “I killed my own husband.”
She stares at her hands, then drags them down the front of her blouse, smearing the blood. Trying to wipe it all away.
“No, Catherine,” I say, my voice shaking. “You are not a murderer. He slipped and fell.”
I turn to Judas, desperate. “Right, Judas?”
He nods without looking up, checking the pulse again.
Catherine looks at me.
I move closer to Judas. He pulls his phone from his pocket and presses it into my hands.
“Call 911,” Catherine cries again.
I do.
My heart is pounding so hard. Everything feels like2014.all over again. The flashing images. The fear. The blame. Like history is circling back, ready to sink me back down.
Judas grabs my hand and squeezes it hard. He pulls me down until we both collapse onto the floor in front of Judge Harrington.
I am not alone anymore.
If this is what family is supposed to be, if this is meant to be my family, then family protects family.
We have to protect Catherine if he doesn’t survive.
When I hang up the phone, the sound of sirens already growing closer, I turn to her.
“Catherine,” I say. “You can’t tell them you fought. You can’t say you pushed him. You can’t mention that you were separating.”
“You,” she sobs. “You both heard everything?”
