Page 50 of Rich Little Liars

The sound is worse than anything I’ve ever heard. Worse than the fire. Worse than Daniel’s screams. A wet, meaty thud that I know immediately means something terrible. Something irreversible.

Richard’s eyes go wide. Surprised. Like he can’t quite process what just happened.

Then he drops.

Just collapses. His legs giving out all at once, his body folding in on itself, his head hitting the wooden floor with another awful thud that makes my stomach heave. The vase slips from my hands. It shatters on the floor but I barely hear it over the sound of my own breathing. Over the roaring in my ears that sounds like the ocean. Like drowning.

‘No!’ The scream tears out of me. ‘No, no, no!’

I drop to my knees beside him. There’s blood. So much blood. It pools dark beneath his head, spreading across the pale oak in a widening circle. His eyes are closed. His breathing shallow and wrong.

The intruder stands over us both. For a moment, I think this is it. This is how it ends. They’ll hit me too. Will finish what they started.

But they just stand there.

Breathing hard.

Looking down at Richard’s crumpled form and the blood and me crying over him.

Then they run.

Past me. Past Richard. Towards the kitchen and the broken window and the escape route they’ve planned. I hear their footsteps retreating. Hear the crunch of glass. Hear the crash of them climbing back out through the window they broke to get in.

Then silence.

They’re gone.

I rush for my phone and make the call to the police. My quivering voice is a mash of words until I tell them to come. They say they’ll be here soon with an ambulance, but the voice washes over me until I hang up. Then I’m left kneeling in Richard’s blood, my hands pressed against his head, his body so still beneath my touch it doesn’t look like breathing at all.

‘Richard.’ My voice breaks on his name. ‘Richard, please. Please wake up.’

He doesn’t respond. His skin is warm but his eyes stay closed and there’s so much blood I can’t tell where it’s coming from. The wound is somewhere in his hair, hidden, but the blood keeps spreading. Keeps soaking through my fingers no matter how hard I press.

‘No, no, no.’ I’m sobbing now. Pressing harder. Trying to stop the flow that won’t stop. ‘Please don’t do this. Please don’t leave me.’

His face is so pale. His breathing so shallow I have to lean close just to confirm he’s still doing it. Still fighting to stay here even though every second he seems to slip further away.

This is my fault.

The thought crashes through me with devastating clarity. Richard is lying here bleeding because of me. Because of what I did. Because of secrets I’ve been keeping that have drawn something dark and violent into both our lives.

Someone knows what happened that night with Daniel and Roxanne.

Someone wants me to suffer for it.

And now Richard is suffering instead.

‘I’m sorry.’ The words sound broken. Desperate. ‘I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.’

Blood soaks through my hands. Through the pressure I’m trying to maintain. His face is getting paler. His breathing more laboured.

‘Please.’ I’m begging now. Begging him or God or whoever is listening. ‘Please don’t take him. Please. I’ll do anything. Just don’t take him.’

But Richard doesn’t wake up. Doesn’t squeeze my hand or open his eyes or give me any sign that he’s still fighting.

He just lies there.

Bleeding.