Page 40 of River Wild

She’s dead.

Dead.

No.

Gran’s fingers tighten on my shoulder. The only sign that she heard what he just said.

He holds out the envelope to Gran. She takes it from him.

“Someone will be in touch about the body.”

The body.

Then, he turns and walks away.

Dead.

Stabbed.

Body.

Mama.

No.

I hear someone screaming.

I don’t realize it’s me until Gran is pulling me into her arms, tightly holding me to her.

“No. No!” I push away from her, stumbling backward.

“River—”

“No! She’s not … she’s not … no!”

I turn and run through the house.

She can’t be dead. She can’t be.

No.

I’m back in the workshop.

The glass balloon is sitting where I left it.

She won’t ever see it because she’s dead.

She’s dead because of me. Because of what I did.

I pick the balloon up and hurl it at the shelf where all the things I made her sit.

It hits the shelf with a resounding smash, all the other glass items smashing.

But it’s not enough. The pain is still there in my chest. And it hurts.

I pick up one of the metal pipes we use for glassblowing, and I start to swing out, hitting anything I can.

The smashing of glass is all that can be heard. Along with the pounding of my heart.