Push(92)

Robbie is motionless now, and I look down at him, wondering if he is still alive. David is sitting on top of his body, and when he looks up at me, I can see the anger searing through him. It is unbelievable—I can feel how angry David is. I can feel the King of Control utterly losing his shit. Because of me.

He stands and kicks Robbie’s side hard, and Robbie lets out a small cough. Then David is nose-to-nose with me, asking me in a quiet, malicious tone exactly how long I have been screwing Robbie. I tell him it doesn’t matter. It was just fucking. It didn’t mean anything. The look on David’s face tells me that I had better say what he wants to hear. That self-preservation is a must if I plan to walk away from this. Lies may be the only thing that will save me.

I tell David I love him—which I don’t. And that I am sorry—which I’m not. And that what happened with Robbie was just a one-time thing—which, clearly, it wasn’t. Lies, lies, lies. As I am spitting out the words I think he wants to hear, David smiles at me. I think my lies are working. I think I might actually walk away from this. But then David leans down and puts his face right up to mine. He asks me if I think he is a fucking idiot. He knows I don’t love him, and he knows I’m not sorry.

I can feel the anger shooting through his body again. His hands grasp my shoulders tightly, and his breath deepens. His face is infused with fury, and this time it is aimed at me. I don’t move because I think that if I do, my body will wind up on the ground right next to Robbie’s. I’m going to have to find a way out of this. I wish I had one of my father’s guns.

I quietly ask David what he wants me to say. “Don’t fucking say anything,” he whispers to me. “Just do what I tell you to do.” He takes his hands off my shoulders and tells me to turn around and look at what I made him do. Look at the bloody mess I turned Robbie into.

When I turn around, I see Robbie lying on the ground behind me. His head rolls to the side, and he exhales another little blood-soaked cough. Then I hear David’s heavy breaths and his backpack sliding down off his body. I should run. I should leap over Robbie and run like hell. But I can’t. I can only look down and silently beg his now unconscious body to keep breathing.

I squat down and touch Robbie’s face. It is hot and slick with blood. I look at his closed eyes and consider moving my palm over to his mouth, to confirm that he’s breathing. But David grabs hold of both my wrists and drags them behind me. The force of it knocks me forward, and my cheek pushes against Robbie’s chest. David’s knee is on my back, and he wraps something around my wrists, tying them together. When he pulls me back up to standing, I can feel the blood from Robbie’s shirt trickling down my face. I can taste it on my lips. It is the taste of my own guilt.

David pushes me over to the side of the bridge so that my toes are up against the edge, just beneath the knee-high guardrail. He has a hold of my upper arms, and as I look down through the dark at the water below me, David lets me go and bends over. I think for a second that he is going to pick something up, but then I feel his backpack on top of my feet. It is heavy, and a few seconds later, he has secured a strap to each of my ankles with a zip tie. What is happening? I think again that I should be running away. That I should be kicking and fighting him. But by the time my fear sets in, it’s too late.

David stands back up and whispers into my ear that he is going to push me off this goddamned bridge.

“Don’t,” I tell him. “Don’t do this. Let’s just walk away from this. I will go, and I won’t come back. You’ll never see me again, and Robbie, he’ll go, too. I promise, David. I promise.”

He is smiling at me now, looking both smug and justified. He’s taken charge of the moment, just like he always does. He moves behind me, and then his hands are flat against my back. I feel him push me forward, and my upper body tips over the guardrail. As I fall forward, his hands slide down my legs and lift my heavy feet, flipping them over the railing with force and causing me to tumble over the edge. The wind sings in my ears and when I hit the water, I think about Robbie and I feel ashamed.





Chapter Thirty-Five

Emma—Present Day

When I wake up Sunday morning David is not in my bed. I sit up and listen for movement in the bathroom, but it is quiet. I roll a T-shirt down over my head, being careful not to brush it against the raw skin of my back, and walk down the hallway to look for him. The bathroom is empty, the sofa is vacant, and there is nothing in the kitchen, save for dirty dishes in the sink. There is no note on the table either. I pick up my cell phone to send David a message. When I flip it open, I see that there is one waiting for me from about an hour ago.