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From my peripheral, I see Torrance coming my way. As he goes for my legs, I let him seize me, drag me backward. Then I rear up and latch one cuff around his wrist.
The sky is becoming a gray-blue backdrop as morning peaks against the horizon.
With the breaking light, I fight against Drew as he dives on top of me. He forces my back to the dock. Torrance mounts my shoulders. Drew’s hands slide around my neck, and a blind moment of panic snares me as I realize—if I let this happen—they’ll finally kill me.
I secure the other cuff to Drew’s wrist, locking him and Torrance together.
In the distance, a siren sounds. The noise cracks against the morning, a splintering echo from my dream.
“Fuck.” Torrance releases my shoulders and yanks against the handcuff.
Drew fights back, dragging his accomplice across the dock. They both lunge for the knife.
I use the forgotten moment to inch backward. I scuttle away from the carnage, a red slash of blood in my wake as I escape.
I watch Drew punch Torrance, and Torrance retaliate with an elbow to Drew’s nose. Blood spurts against the gray sky. But it’s Torrance who retrieves the knife. Fear petrifies my limbs and I stop, frozen. Trying to be unseen. But Torrance doesn’t advance on me.
Horror webs through me as Torrance slashes the knife downward—again and again—severing Drew’s hand at the wrist. Drew releases a primal wail that rends the air. Torrance kicks away from Drew, and the bloody, severed hand.
I’m cold, my blood drained, as Torrance stands and walks toward me, knife held at his thigh.
He stands over me. And I know this is the end. All the fight evaporates, and I suddenly become accepting. I love Rhys. I got to be with him once and to finally understand what it means to be truly loved in return. I found my answers. I can let go.
The whoop whoop of a police siren smashes through the hollow morning, compelling Torrance to look up. He must decide that my demise isn’t worth what precious time he might have left to escape.
“Maybe next time,” he says, sending the blade into my arm.
A flesh wound. A taunt.
Torrance flees the pier, leaving me behind.
It’s over.
I rip the bandage of coins from my hand and toss it aside.
I lay my head back against the wooden planks of the dock. I let the pain grow and ebb as the lake laps against the posts.
I breathe and stare at the sky, watching the dark clouds roll across, and then he’s towering from above.
“You slutty, little bitch. You don’t get to take everything from me.”
Drew descends on me, tearing the knife from my flesh with his good hand. I raise my arms to block his attack as he slashes, splitting my skin, my arms becoming bathed in dark-red.
I try to claw at his face, but I’m fighting blind as blood leaks into my eyes. Then the bite of cold water stings my body.
We fall into the lake. The murky water swallows me.
30
That Night
Lakin: Then
I’m seated at the end of the dock, my feet dangling over the edge. I thought about laying down right there, just giving up, forgetting about Drew and Chelsea and the baby…
I wanted the silent night to swallow me.
Footsteps sounded on the dock. A slow, hollow thud against the planks.
