seven
Harper Apple
He’s going to kill me.
That’s all I can think as the current pulls us along, keeping us from sinking to the bottom of the muddy banks. I pushed him with both hands, but managed to grab onto the bridge immediately. Everything was going better than I could have hoped—for about half a second. I thought if he fell, the others would run down to get him, and by the time he swam to shore, changed, and got back in the car, I’d be long gone.
Of course I prepared for the possibility that I’d fall, too. That he’d yank me off the ledge, or that I’d swipe for the railing but lose my balance before I got it. The water’s not rushing and churning, but it’s moving at a good rate, and I knew that even if I fell, he’d have hit the water and been swept along at least far enough so I didn’t fall on him and kill one of us.
But no. He’s the one who’s going to kill us. He didn’t just grab me and pull me off, then kick his way through the air like a normal person falling might. No self-preservation instinct made him try to hit the water advantageously. Instead, he wrapped his arms around me and held on like a fucking barnacle, pinning my arms. We didn’t hit the water well, but I managed to get a good breath before sinking through the frigid surface, and thank fuck for that.
Otherwise, I’d be dead already instead of struggling as hard as I can against his iron grip. The water is like frozen taffy. I can barely kick out in it, and any contact I make with his shins is blunted by the water. We’re pulled along below the surface, twisted by the current until I can’t tell up from down. And I can’t fucking breathe.
My lungs ache. My whole body aches from the cold, much colder than I expected. My head throbs.
And then, although he must have bigger lungs and is an athlete who should be able to hold his breath until I’m dead and then probably swim up to the surface, I feel him release his air. His arms pulse tight around me for one second, like he’s giving me a final embrace, before loosening at last.
I don’t waste a second. I grab him and kick as hard as I can, using my other arm to stroke at the water. I move with the current, letting it carry me and do most of the work, letting the air in my lungs lift me to show me which way is up. I’m almost choking on the lack of oxygen. My chest feels like an elephant is standing on it. My head throbs, blackness eating into the edges of my consciousness as I kick and paddle frantically with one hand, not sure I’ll make the surface in time. The deadweight of Royal threatens to pull me back down, to the river’s hungry bottom.
I want to drop him, but I know I’ll never find him if I let him go. The current will take him, and when I dive back under, he’ll be gone. Just when I think I’ll have to take a breath of water, my head breaks the surface. I suck in a breath, relief making me nearly sob as instinct takes over. Then I’m pulled under again, almost before I can get my mouth closed. I kick hard, breaking through again. This time, I don’t fight and flail like a panicked animal.
I force myself to let my body rest low in the water, to take a slow breath, to only kick my legs to keep from sinking under again. I focus on nothing but breathing the air I so badly need. After I’ve taken several deep breaths, I’m calm enough to think straight, and I aim for the closer bank, put my face into the water, and swim hard with the current. It seems to take forever, like I’m not moving toward the bank at all but only downstream. I’m sure it’s too late for Royal, that I should just drop him and let him join his sister as another casualty of the river.
But I can’t seem to unclench my fingers from the shoulder of his shirt, where I grabbed him before I started up. At last, I’m close enough to touch the bottom with my toes, but I still can’t get out of the water. The current pulls me along when I try to stand. Frustration and panic claw at me, and I start swimming again.
A voice cuts through my singular focus, and I jerk my head in that direction. Duke and Baron are running along the side, waving to me and calling. When I put my feet down again, I’m able to at least stand without being knocked over. The moment I stop moving, Duke charges into the water. His face is etched with fear as he wades out, reaching a hand toward me when he’s still halfway there, as if wanting alone can close the distance between us.
For some reason, a vision of Mabel Darling fills my head. Is this how Royal pulled her out, the reason he didn’t want to admit it? Duke isn’t pulling me out because of any loyalty or feeling. He’s doing it because he’s a fucking human being, and that’s something Royal would never want to admit to. It would damage his reputation to admit he’s just like the rest of us, not some vengeful god perched on a throne above it all.
“Where’s Royal?” Duke calls, his hand finally connecting with mine. I’ve never felt relief like I do the moment his impossibly strong hand grips mine, not even when I caught my breath. I was too scared then. Now, I just about pass out with the force of relief. I’m so caught in the moment that my grip on Royal’s shirt relaxes and I have to jerk my hand from Duke’s and grab for Royal again, this time getting his hand.
“I’ve got him,” I say.
And then I burst into tears like a fucking baby.
Everything happens around me after that, and I know I should jump into action and help, but I can’t seem to put myself back in the moment. I was completely absorbed in every moment in the river, but when they pull me out, it’s like a part of me was left in the water.
I’m used to giving myself over to the moment in a fight. I relish the way it turns my brain off, and I don’t have to think about anything but the goal, the win, the light at the end of the tunnel vision that takes me over in those moments. And even though the practice in honing my ability probably saved me today, I can’t seem to snap back to reality when it’s over.
Instead, I sit on the bank while Duke and Baron roll Royal on his face and try to bang the water out of his lungs. Then Baron starts mouth-to-mouth, and Duke comes over and wraps Baron’s jacket around me. It’s damp from the drizzle still falling, but when he wraps his arms around me and pulls me into his lap, he’s warm and strong, and I’m so relieved that for just one fucking moment in my life, someone else is taking over, that I don’t have to be strong, that I can fall apart and my world won’t fall apart with me.
“You did alright, Apple,” he says, pressing his warm lips to my forehead. I’m so cold I can hardly feel it.
“I pushed him,” I choke out, too tired to care what he’s going to do to me for that confession. If he throws me back in the river, I’ll give up the way Royal did and just let it have me.
“I know,” he says quietly. “We saw.”
“I didn’t know—” I start, but a shiver wracks my body so hard it chokes the words off.
“I know,” Duke says again, and instead of throwing me back in the water, he holds me tighter. “My brother’s a complicated beast.”
“He didn’t even try,” I say, wiping the annoying tears from my eyes. They refuse to stop, even when I’m done with them, when I want to say this to Duke, when I want to make him see that I didn’t mean to fucking kill his brother.
“You have to understand,” Duke says quietly. “Royal’s not suicidal. He’s not going to jump off the bridge. But if someone pushes him…”
“He’s not going to try to save himself,” I say, another sob wracking my body.
Duke kisses my forehead again, squeezing me against his chest and letting my tears soak his shirt above the waterline left from when he waded in to get us. “He just doesn’t really care if he dies.”