1043: Chapter 26

I ran.

I kept running. Into the night. I didn’t know where I was going. All I knew was that I needed to be as far away from that horrifying sight as possible.

I ran. The cold night air whipped past my face; it stung, and made my eyes water, mingling with the tears that were falling from pure fear.

I ran.

I stumbled.

I fell.

I lay on the ground, just staring at the night sky. I didn’t know how far I’d run, or how long I’d been running for. I was still in the middle of nowhere, though, but right now I didn’t care. I was scared; my body was in “fight or flight” mode, but everything hurt too much to go any further.

A piercing sound shattered the silence of the night. I jumped. It took me a moment to identify the source of the sound as my phone in my pocket, which had somehow survived everything that had happened unscathed.

Uneasily, I pulled the phone out of my pocket. I glanced at the screen. It was 2:30 in the morning, and a number I didn’t recognise was calling me.

Who was it? I didn’t want to answer, but I figured if someone was calling at this hour, it was probably important. Perhaps it was–

“Hello?” I said in a cracked voice, tapping the option to answer the call.

“I’m sorry to disturb you so late,” came a voice on the other end of the phone. I didn’t recognise it. It was speaking urgently. “But I’m afraid I have something you need to hear right now.”

“What is it?” I said breathlessly. I felt like I had just run a marathon. Perhaps I had.

“There’s been an accident,” said the voice. “Involving your family. We need you to–”

I didn’t hear the rest. I took the phone away from my ear, and the horrifying realisation of what I had done crept up on me.

I had been in an accident with the rest of my family, for whom it might already be too late, and instead of trying to help them… instead of trying to help them, I had just run away.

Why had I done that?

Fear, I guessed, but it didn’t make me feel any better. The fact was, they were lying there in that wreckage, and somehow, miraculously, here I was, all but unscathed — physically, at least — and I had done nothing. Nothing at all.

I’m an awful person, I thought. I am the worst person in the entire world. My family have never done anything but support me and look after me, even in my most difficult times, and when they needed me, I just turned my back and ran away. I am an awful person. I am weak. I am terrible.

Guilt flooded my body. I felt it creeping in through my skin; it was a horrific, crawling sensation, like a million insects had burrowed into my flesh and were now working their way through my body. I scratched my arms, but the sensation didn’t go away.

I threw up, and just lay there breathlessly looking at the pool of my own vomit for a moment. I became aware that there was still a sound coming from the phone.

I pressed the button and hung up. I didn’t deserve to hear it.

*

Eventually, I walked back to the road and managed to flag down a passing motorist. My disheveled state caused them to take pity on me and give me a lift home. As it happened, we weren’t far out, and the late-night driver was going the right way.

We passed the blue flashing lights of an ambulance as we drove through the dark night. I turned away, my heart hurting.

“Whew, that looks nasty,” said my companion. “Hope whoever was involved in that is all right.”

I shivered. I was involved in that, and I was all right, but–

“Mm,” I said absently, trying not to let my voice betray my guilt.

The drive continued in silence for a while. Apparently my companion didn’t like to listen to the radio.

“So, what were you doing out here by yourself at this time of night?” he asked eventually.

“Car broke down,” I said, trying not to let my voice shake. “Just want to get home.” I’d worked out the story before he asked it. I hoped it was convincing.

“Ugh, bad luck for you,” he said. “You don’t have breakdown cover?”

“No,” I said. “I’ll get it sorted tomorrow.”

Silence fell again.

“Thanks for this,” I said, grateful for the kindness of this stranger.

Kindness I didn’t deserve.

*

When I finally got home, I thanked the stranger again and watched him drive off into the night. I unlocked the door, went inside and went straight up to my room. I lay face down on my bed and just cried.

At some point I fell asleep, because when I raised my head again, light was starting to come in through the window. A new day was beginning, for some of us anyway. Others hadn’t been so lucky.

I groaned and sat up. I retrieved my phone from my pocket. The battery had gone flat at some point during the journey home, so I plugged it in to the charger. Nothing happened for a moment — it normally took a few minutes for it to get enough charge to do anything if it was completely flat.

Last night felt like a bad dream. Perhaps it was a bad dream.

I staggered to my feet and stood up. I looked in the mirror and saw that my face was filthy. I turned away, and walked out. I looked in on my parents’ room, and there was no-one there; it was made up exactly as if it was expecting its occupants to come home any moment. I looked in on my sister’s room — it, too, was made up perfectly, as if nothing was wrong.

But something was terribly, terribly wrong. These rooms wouldn’t see their occupants again.

There was no way.

It was impossible.

Not after what I’d done.

I went back to my room. The phone had sucked up enough charge to turn itself back on, and I saw that there were ten missed calls, all from the same number that had phoned me last night. There was a voicemail message, too.

I couldn’t bring myself to listen to it.

*

I opened my eyes, and I found myself standing on the barrier at the side of the bridge. Aril was still leaning on the pillar behind me. He looked bored.

I looked down. The water below still looked like a swirling black mass of evil. One part of me just wanted to cast myself into that abyss and never be seen again; the other knew that was a terrible idea.

That other part of me was standing behind me, looking bored.

“You’re not going to jump,” he said calmly.

“Why?” I asked.

“You already know why,” he said. “You know perfectly well why.”

“But it was my fault!” I said.

“Was it?” he asked, his voice still infuriatingly calm and rational.

“Of course it was!” I cried. “I left them behind. I left them to… to die.”

“Oh?” he said. I was facing the other way, but I could tell from the tone of his voice that he’d probably raised an eyebrow. “And if you’d stayed, what would you have done?”

“I…” I trailed off.

What would I have done?

I had no answer.

“Exactly,” he said. “Now come on down.”

I thought about what he had said. Silence hung over us. Time seemed to stand still.

“No,” I said.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I don’t deserve to live,” I said.

“Why?” he asked again.

“Because I’m the one who walked away,” I said. “And I’m the one who has least to offer. I’m pathetic. I’m nothing. I’m worthless. No-one cares.”

“Is that true?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “I have you. I have Laura. I have Alice. Like I said before. But it’s not enough. None of this is real. None of you are real. I can’t accept this. I can’t go on like this.”

“Now you’re starting to understand,” he said. His voice hadn’t raised once during this whole conversation, while I wanted to scream and shout everything I said. It infuriated me, but not because he was being condescending; it infuriated me because I knew he was right.

I turned around carefully, and stepped down off the barrier. Aril showed no sign of relief or exasperation. He just looked at me.

“Good,” he said. “I think I’m done here.”

He extended his hand to me. I took it. He shook my hand once, then my vision filled with a bright white light. It blinded me and disoriented me. My skin seemed to tingle. Something indescribable felt… different. I couldn’t describe it.

The sensation soon passed, and I felt a rushing of wind — or did I? I wasn’t sure what was real any more — and eventually the light faded.

When my eyes recovered from the brilliance of the shining white light, I was standing in my bedroom. It was dark. I glanced at the clock radio.

2:30.