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Not Tomas’s voice. Raffe.
I look up. He is standing in front of me holding a large wooden bat in one hand. The other is held out in front of him. I close my hand around his and climb to my feet. Only then do I look down at the body sprawled on the ground.
“Is he dead?” It hurts to speak, and my voice sounds unfamiliar. Low. Harsh. Swollen.
“Not yet.” Raffe puts the bat on the ground, grabs Damone’s legs, and begins to drag him. Not toward the residence and the help that lies inside, but away.
“What are you doing?”
“We can’t risk Damone telling Professor Holt about this.”
“We can’t prevent him from talking.”
“Yes.” Raffe looks up at me. “We can. No one will question a student disappearing from the University. Especially one who is barely making the grade, like Damone. Students know failure requires a price. Some are too cowardly to pay it.”
“I don’t understand,” I whisper. But I do. Raffe is dragging Damone to the ravine. If Damone isn’t dead now, he will be when he hits the bottom. “We can’t kill him.”
Raffe stops at the edge of the crevice. “If we don’t, we’ll both suffer the consequences. I’m willing to face Professor Holt if you are. Your choice.” He puts his foot on Damone’s back and waits.
My choice. Save Damone or myself. Kill or be killed.
I wish Tomas were here to help me make this choice. I know the one I should make. All my life I’ve been taught to respect each and every life. To do whatever is necessary to preserve it.
Moonlight glistens off the blood on my hands. I picture myself running inside. Calling for a doctor. Following the teachings my parents instilled in me.
But I don’t. I tell myself Damone has lost too much blood to be helped. That no matter the choice I make, he will die. Both are true. But I know in my heart the real reason behind my choice. Choosing to attempt to save Damone’s life means ending my own.
I look out into the darkness, willing Tomas to step from the shadows. When he doesn’t, I take a deep breath, swallow the bile building in my throat, and nod.
That one movement is all it takes. Raffe puts his arms under Damone and rolls Damone onto his back. Someone lets out a low groan. Raffe from exertion? Damone from pain? Before I can find out, Raffe gives one final push, and Damone’s body plunges over the edge.
I can’t breathe. Bending over, I put my hands on my legs and force air in and out of my lungs. Without missing a beat, Raffe walks back across the grass, grabs the bat, and drops it into the emptiness below. “Okay. Let’s get going.”
There is no guilt in his voice. No concern for the life he has just taken. None of the tears that make my body tremble and my eyes burn.
“Cia. We have to go.” He grabs my arm and pulls me toward the shed. “We don’t want to be out here if someone inside starts wondering what the shouting was that woke them up. If we don’t want to get caught, we have to get out of here now.”
I flinch at the icy tone of Raffe’s voice. Nausea rocks my stomach. A knife slick with blood is clutched in my hand. A body lies broken at the bottom of the ravine. Raffe appears unfazed as he picks my bike off the shed floor and wheels it out to me. A moment later, he returns with one of his own.
“Where are we going?”
“You’re not going anywhere with him.”
Tomas.
I turn and see him step out of the darkness into a patch of moonlight. His face is filled with worry and rage as he looks from me to the knife in my hands to Raffe.
“I should have figured you’d turn up.” Raffe takes a step toward Tomas. “Did you and Cia plan to meet tonight, or did the two of you figure out some kind of emergency contact method?” When neither of us answers, Raffe shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Cia didn’t need you to come to her rescue. She saved herself from Damone. The two of us were just about to head out. Do you want to come with us?”
Tomas stiffens at the implication that Raffe and I planned to go somewhere together without informing him. I start to explain, but realize this isn’t the time or place. The longer we stand here talking, the greater chance there is of someone hearing us. If someone finds us here, they will see the knife and the blood that stains my hands. They will know what I have done. All of us will pay the penalty for my crime. I will not allow that to happen.
Sliding the knife into my bag, I take a step toward Tomas. “Look.” The word scrapes my swollen throat. “We have to get out of here now.”
“I’m ready when you are.” Raffe sets down his bike, heads back to the outbuilding, and returns with another. “This was Damone’s. I don’t think he’ll mind if you use it, Tomas. Now, if both of you are ready, I think we should get moving.”
I look toward the edge where Damone lost his life, feel the throb of my throat where his hands tried to end mine, and climb onto my bicycle. Tomas does the same, but refuses to look at me as we begin to pedal.
Both Tomas and Raffe let me take the lead as we ride across campus. I push my legs as fast as they will go, desperate to leave the sorrow and fear of my actions behind. But there is no forgetting the feeling of my knife puncturing Damone’s flesh or watching his body plunge into the ravine. I want to collapse to the ground and howl with frustration, guilt, and sorrow. But I can’t because there is more at work here than a boy who wanted my success for his own and was willing to do anything to get it. There will be time enough for guilt and recriminations later. Now I have to decide what to do about the boys riding behind me. One I would trust with my life. The other just saved my life, but I do not understand his motivations. I need to if Tomas and I are going to survive this night.
