Page 19 of Kat Bethel

Damn it.

“Oh, big guy.” I sighed, putting my finger to his femoral pulse to confirm what I already knew. “I’m sorry.”

He was dead.

I failed to save him.

I took two breaths even as muscles screamed. Snot filled my nose as tears blurred my eyes. Everything in me rejected the notion of surrendering.

You can’t save everyone. It’s too late.

But letting go felt like giving up on someone who probably needed therapy and medication. It wasn’t fair for him to lose his fight.

I peeled my fingers and arms off him one at a time until he hung there freely. I plopped bonelessly on the bed, slumping my shoulders.

Red and blue lights filled the room.

“What the hell?” The door unlocked with a key card and a beautiful young woman with a precious baby on her hip came in.

I’ll never forget that scream. Or how my heart shattered knowing that poor woman would pay for this decision for the rest of her life.

I’m so sorry.

I hung my head, letting my tears hit the carpet. The edges of my shadow crawled on the ground, curling closer to me even though I hadn’t moved.

I hadn’t come back alone this morning.

Chapter 8:

Myhairwasstillwet from the hour-long shower I took to burn off the urine, cop questions, and memories away. I was pretty sure the only thing it helped with was the pee.

“Did you know Mr. Hightower?”

“Were you having an affair with him?”

“Did you know what he planned to do?”

To the point the wife stepped in and defended me. He’d just sold his company and decided to prioritize his family, traveling in an RV to show his daughter the experiences of the world. He didn’t want to lose his daughter’s precious childhood sitting at a desk. He was the happiest he’d been in years. They weren’t even from here, just passing through, and he knew his wife would be home in minutes.

He’d even set the fake wood table with plates and plastic ware so they could still pretend to be civilized. That detail made his wife smile for a brief second before another round of sobs took over her again.

This wasn’t the behavior of a man preparing to kill himself.

He had everything in front of him. Depression came in all colors, but this didn’t track.

I needed to eat. Chills kept rolling over me, making me tremble. But when I scanned this downtown strip of restaurants the thought of eating made my stomach turn sour. I’d failed that man, and he’d never eat his lunch.

A small mom-and-pop diner came up beside me that wasn’t too full from the dinner rush, but had enough people sitting and eating it probably wouldn’t kill me.

My bright blue eyes were tired in the reflection of the window. My red curly hair was in a lazy bun on top of my head, and there was a frown plastered on my face.

I let out a steadying breath and forced a smirk into place. That way I could pretend I felt like myself.

A small movement behind me in the glass grabbed my attention. The shadow of a man stood over my shoulder. His head down as if he was going to kiss my shoulder.

I whirled around, but found the space behind me empty. My eyes scanned the street, looking for where he went off to.

I shivered as a gust of cold air blew across me. The feeling of eyes searing into me rolled over me like it had yesterday. I found a guy leaning against his car a few feet away, smiling at me.