Page 119 of River Wild

Carrie

“What?” I shift back in my seat.

He killed his stepdad.

I don’t know what he sees on my face, but whatever it is, it makes his pale.

“Shit. Carrie, I’m not going to hurt you.” He holds his hands up, like he’s surrendering.

“What?” I stutter, realization quickly dawning on me. “Oh God, no. I know you won’t hurt me.”

If he was going to hurt me, then he would have by now. And a man who hunts down sex offenders to protect children is not a man I need to be afraid of.

I move closer to him to reassure him that my reaction was not one out of fear.

“I’m not scared of you. I’m just …” Stunned. Lost for words. “I don’t know what I am. Shocked, I guess. It’s a lot of information to take in, in one go.” I’m blinking furiously, trying to clear my mind and gather my thoughts. “But you were just a child when he … when you …”

He exhales a breath and nods, eyes fixed on the wall ahead. “I was eight when I killed him. It … the abuse had been going on for a long time prior to that. Things were … getting worse. I couldn’t tell my mom what was happening because he said he would kill her if I did, and then I’d be left with him. Just me and him.”

Tears refill my eyes and trickle down my cheeks. I brush them away with my wrist.

“He was a police officer. People in this town respected him. I knew that, if I did say something … no one would believe me. I was … trapped.

“It was a Sunday. It was always a fucking Sunday. She was at her book club. I was alone at home with him. He called me into the kitchen. I knew what was going to happen. What always happened when she wasn’t there.” He rubs his hands over his face, pushing his fingers up and through his hair.

“He left his gun out on the kitchen counter. He never did that. And I honestly don’t know what made me pick up the gun that day. But I did. I pointed it at him. He laughed in my face. Then, he got mad. He came at me, and then I shot him. And I kept pulling the trigger until the gun was empty. I don’t know how much time passed … it seemed like none at all, and then Mama was home, and she saw what I’d done. She made me tell her what had happened. So, I did. I told her the ugly truth. She cried. Then, she picked up the phone and called the police. While we waited for them to come, she told me to agree with everything that she said. That it was her who had killed him. They’d fought. He’d attacked her, and she’d grabbed his gun and shot him in self-defense. I didn’t want to lie. I didn’t want her to go to prison.”

His eyes, red with emotion, flick to mine, telling me without words that he needs me to believe that. If not anything else, he needs me to believe that.

“She died in that place, and it was because of me.”

His head lowers. I scoot closer to him and grab hold of his hand.

“No. She was your mom, and she was protecting you in the only way she could because she loved you, River. Nothing that happened on that day or in the time leading up to it was your fault.”

I squeeze his hand, and he lifts his eyes to mine. They’re wet with tears, and my heart squeezes painfully.

“You were a child, River. A little boy.”

“I should have said something. Told the truth. But I didn’t. I did as she’d told me, and I stayed quiet. I never told the truth, and she went into that hellhole and never came out.”

“And what good would have come of it if you had told the truth?”

“She would be here … and I wouldn’t.”

“Don’t talk like that,” I say sharply.

I’m frustrated because he can’t see how amazing he is. I don’t think I fully saw it until now.

“I’m not good, Carrie.” He stares down at his hands that are stretched out on his thighs. “There’s a darkness inside of me.”

“No. There’s a survivor inside of you, doing what he needs to. You’re a good person, River. In here, where it counts.” I press my hand to his chest, over his heart. “You can tell me what you want, but I know what I see. And I see a good man.”

“I enjoy it, Red. Hurting them.” He turns dark eyes up to mine. “You need to know that about me. Know who I really am.”

I swallow down.

I move my hand down from his chest to his forearm and give it a squeeze. I don’t want to stop touching him in case he thinks it’s because I believe what he’s saying. That I think he’s bad.