Page 41 of River Wild

And then there’s nothing left to hit. My eyes are blurry, and my breaths are heavy. I drop the metal pipe to the floor with a loud clang in the echoing silence.

I clench my fists in and out.

Dead.

Mama’s dead.

“River.” Gran’s soft voice comes from the doorway.

I turn my blurry eyes to her. “S-she’s dead.”

Her eyes dim. “Yes.”

“S-she … I-I -k-killed her! I k-killed Mama!”

“No.” Her voice is firm. She steps forward.

I back up, bumping into the workbench. “Y-yes! I-I k-killed her! S-she wouldn’t have been there if I hadn’t—”

“Stop!” Her voice comes out like a rumble of thunder.

I press my trembling lips together, holding all of my pain inside.

Gran walks over to me and gently wraps her hands around my upper arms. “You did not kill your mother,” she speaks gently, but her voice breaks. She clears her throat. “I will not have you carrying that around with you. You blaming yourself is not what your mama would want. Notone thing that happened all those years ago was your fault. You hear me? You were just a child. You are still only a child.”

I dip my chin, nodding, giving her the answer she wants.

But I don’t mean it.

I know I killed Mama.

She was in prison because of me. Because of what I had done to him that day.

It should have been me in jail.

I should be dead.

I press my fingers into my palms. They’re slick.

I look down. They’re bleeding. Cut up from the glass.

I take in the state of the workshop. I’ve trashed it. Broken all of Gran’s work.

“I-I’m sorry. I b-broke everything.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s just glass.” She puts a hand under my chin and raises my eyes to her. “It can all be replaced.”

But Mama can’t be replaced.

I’m never going to see her again.

And I have no one to blame but myself.

A tear runs down my cheek.

I see Gran’s eyes shimmer, and something deep inside me breaks.

Gran never cries. Not ever.

I’ve made her cry.

Because I killed her only child.

She must hate me.

Ihate me.

“You stop those thoughts right now, River,” she firmly says the words, like she can see straight inside my head. “I don’t blame you. And I most certainly don’t hate you. I love you.”

But I don’t feel worthy of her love.

Because I’m not worthy of anyone’s love.

There is nothing good inside me.

Just blackness and broken parts that can never be repaired.