It could have been any man in my place, here at this ledge; I was just lucky enough to reach him first. To be the one to save him.
A small part of me is screaming to turn back, if I’m honest. It’s looking at this one-hundred-foot drop and shaking with fear. But I’m here now, and two things are keeping my feet on the ledge.
One is the thought of saving Atlas, of being the man he needs. Of protecting him.
And the other is my father’s words, ringing loud and true:Sometimes being a man means doing what you don’t want to do.
The waves are so incredibly loud that I don’t hear the approaching footsteps until it’s too late.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” someone screams, and as I look over my shoulder, I see Atticus glaring at me from several feet away.
“Come any closer, and I jump,” I immediately respond, lifting one of my feet.
Atticus says nothing, does nothing, but continues to glare. Not that I ever expectedhimto be the one to try and save me. He’s hated me since the moment we met.
“I know how to save him,” I tell him. “Whatever you did, it didn’t work.”
Atticus seems to know this. His eyes dart to the ground, a flush coloring his cheeks.
“I have to jump, to sacrifice myself to balance out the life the incubus saved so long ago,” I continue. “Then, Atlas can be free.”
“Are you fucking insane?” Atticus yells, taking a step forward. “You’re going to commit suicide believing it will save my brother? You barely know him! Are you delusional?!”
I can see the panic on his face, the fear and anxiety.
“Iknowit will save him,” I say, just loud enough for him to hear me over the rushing wind.
“Julian—” He takes another step toward me.
“It’s his life or mine,” I interrupt. “It’s your brother’s life, or a stranger’s.”
Atticus freezes, his eyes widening. In them, a war begins. One where he fights the morality of letting me jump if it means it might save Atlas; one where he has to decide if he’ll let another human die right before his very eyes.
In the end, moments later, Atticus takes a step back. He does nothing. He has chosen.
Chosen Atlas.
I smile.
Looking back out over the crashing waves, I take a deep breath.
And as I step off the ledge, in my mind, I’m seeing visions of the sweet boy clawing at the door of the west tower.
Atlas
28
THE SKIN ON MYknuckles split open as I bang my fists against the heavy oak door, my throat raw with each scream that passes through it.
“Let me out! Let me the fuckout!”
But no one is listening. I have no idea where anyone is.
I’m shaking, Julian’s words playing on repeat in my mind.
“Of coursewhatever Atticus did didn’t work. There needs to be a sacrifice.”
He’s going to kill himself. Julian is going to do god knows what in the name ofsavingme, and I’m never going to see him again. To hold him.
