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My lips part to issue a rehearsed answer.Because he was troubled.That’s what Father would want me to say.
“Because our father didn’t accept him,” I croak instead. My voice comes out halting. It feels strange to be so honest—as dangerous as standing on the ledge of a bridge. “He hated trying to please him. He hatedus. I… I still don’t know why.”
It sounds paranoid, but I know deep down that it’s exactly how Hale always felt.
Like an outsider.
“You really think it’shisfault then. Your father’s. That’s what I’m hearing. So, you decide to off yourself, to punish him?” The stranger laughs. “Word of advice, there are a million other ways to punish your old man than jumping off a damn bridge. Go find some tattooed little punk to screw. That should piss him off.”
He keeps laughing. Apparently, he finds that concept amusing.
“Likeyou?” I want it to be an insult, but my eyes are on his neck. From this angle, I have a clearer view of the design snaking across his collarbone. Something intricate, made of swirls of ink. A skull?
He turns his head before I can be sure, and my breath catches. His gaze is like ice. Hard. Impenetrable. The longer I meet his stare, the more unsteady I feel. When he finally looks away, butterflies flutter to life in my stomach, swarming with foreboding.
I get the sense that everything about me was summed up in that one look. His ultimate determination?
“Not interested,” he tells me coldly. “Now run along. You don’t belong here.”
“You can’t...you can’t do this.” The moment the words leave my mouth, I realize what I’m doing—whining about a spot to die in. There are other places along this bridge to jump and no one else to stop me.
I swivel toward a random direction and take a step.
“Wait.” He cocks his head as if listening for something. I hear it, too, a noise that sends my pulse racing—the swell of police sirens coming from across the bridge.Oh no.A million different explanations come to mind. Father could have called them. Or this man could be an escaped convict. I toy with both ideas, but neither one inspires the alarm it should.
Just impatience. The thought of returning home weighs on my mind, more terrifying than the prospect of jumping off a bridge. It’s selfish, I know—but I can’t go back to pretending that nothing is wrong. I can’t. Apparently, I’m not the only one eager to avoid discovery.
“Fuck,” the stranger hisses. “We need to move.” He whirls around but surprises me by snatching my wrist.
“We?” I gasp. “Let go of me!”
“I can’t focus with all this goddamn noise,” he snarls in return. “Unless you want to stick around for the cops. No? Then come on.”
He storms toward the main path, pulling me behind him. Despite digging my heels into the pavement, I can’t find enough leverage to resist him. He’s so strong.
Helpless, I try to raise my voice, scanning the bridge for anyone in view. “What are you doing?”
His laughter echoes ominously, reinforcing just how alone we truly are. There isn’t even a car on the road.
“You scared?” He cranes his neck to see my expression and scoffs. “I guess you’re not that eager to die, are you, sweetheart?”
My thoughts stall. Restart. As seems to be the norm where he is concerned, vulgarity is the only weapon I can utilize right away. This time, I use a curse favored by Hale. “Fuck you—”
“Already told you that you’re not my type.” Undeterred, he keeps moving, easily dragging me toward the park’s main entrance.
My heart races as I consider where he could be taking me. Nowhere good. Suicide I’d planned for. Not… Murder.
Though this would certainly be an easier route to my original end goal.
With a hard tug, my captor pulls me closer. “Come on.”
“Let go!” My teeth chatter. The breeze is merciless this close to the shore. A tiny hint of regret sneaks in before I can quash it down. If only I knew my suicide would be foiled. I might have worn my sneakers instead of a pair of sandals.
The further we move from the bridge, however, the warmer it feels. It’s been so long since I’ve been in this part of the city alone—outside of a limo or a volunteer group. Here the air feels different. Grittier.
The sounds are louder, and when we leave the quiet confines of the park, the bustling heart of downtown intrudes with all the subtlety of a brick wall.
It’s all noise. All chaos—masses of impatient people rushing off to their destinations. None seem to notice or care about the young woman pulled relentlessly by a stranger.
