Page 78 of The One Before

The only thing more alarming than the fall was the silence that followed. Roman moved first, jumping off the dock and climbing down to where Celia had fallen. Josephine walked over slowly. She shone the flashlight on the wounded girl.

Celia’s eyes were closed, but her mouth was open. Her limbs were sprawled awkwardly about, and she was still. Roman lifted her head, blood gushing over his fingers.

“Oh my God, Mom,” he cried, sounding more like a small child than a young man. “Mom, this looks bad.”

Josephine was silent. The hand holding the flashlight started to shake, hindering their only source of light. “Is she dead?”

Roman pressed his hand against her wrist, then her chest. “I don’t know. Mom, what do we do?”

Josephine looked scared, but he could tell his mother was thinking. Thinking about the dying girl in the grass and what could happen to them as a result. “Take her out on the water.”

“The water?” Roman cradled Celia’s hemorrhaging head and kept trying to find a pulse. “Mom, she needs a hospital. She’s losing a lot of blood.”

“She’s already lost too much,” Josephine shouted at her son. “If she’s not dead yet, she will be soon.”

“Mom, we don’t know that.” Roman was crying in that desperate way people only can when around their parents. He needed counsel and reassurance, but he wasn’t getting either.

“Listen to me,” Josephine said, kneeling by him. “She’s in bad shape. Taking her to the hospital like this will only raise questions. Bad questions, and I wouldn’t want you getting in trouble.”

“Me? This was an accident—”

“Exactly. There’s no point in anyone’s future getting destroyed over a simple mistake.”

“But she needs help!”

How young Roman seemed when confronted by this situation, and how old his mother turned. While he was falling apart at the seams, she was poised and ready for the next step.

“I’ll hose off the blood around the dock. You need to take her to a deep point on the lake. Tie her ankles to a rock and drop her.”

Hearing those words shocked him. Hearing them come from his mother’s mouth was terrifying. “I can’t do that, Mom. I love her—”

“Don’t ever say those words again, do you hear me? And I’ll never tell Cooper anything I witnessed here tonight,” she spat, shining the flashlight on Celia’s still face. “You caused this in more ways than one, Roman. Don’t forget that.”

“Mom? Dad? Is anyone down there?” Cooper’s voice called from the house in the distance. Roman and Josephine both turned but didn’t see anyone approaching. She switched off the flashlight.

“Be there in a minute,” Josephine shouted back, her voice calm and normal.

They heard a door slam, then quiet. She turned back to Roman, clicking the flashlight on.

“Do what I say. Now. Before your brother finds out.”

Even if Roman knew what to say, he couldn’t speak. He was crying too hard, but he nodded his understanding. Josephine marched up the hill to the house, leaving her son alone in the dark with Celia.

Roman did as he was told. He hoisted Celia onto the boat and rode to one of the deepest points of Whisper Lake. Along the way, he stopped by a cove and found a heavy rock and, using rope from the boat, fastened it to her leg. He found a bottle of his father’s liquor in one of the boat’s cabinets and drank. The bitter taste soothed him. For several minutes, he sat alone. He listened to the water splash against the hull and gazed at the dazzling stars blinking above. He’d hoped Celia might wake and this could all be avoided. But that didn’t happen.

He lifted Celia onto the ledge, staring at the dark water beneath them both. He dropped the rock first, feeling it pull against her body. For a few seconds, he held her still in his arms. As he let go of her waist, he heard a whimper. It was the most frightening sound he’d ever heard.

That sound would haunt him during quiet moments in the years to come.

Sixty-Four

Madison

The house is silent, except for the crackling of the fire. Roman won’t raise his eyes to meet mine. Josephine, however, looks directly at me. Her tears have dried, and there is a deep wrinkle between her brows.

“Roman,” I say, my throat raspy. “Why are you here?”

“I told him to come here,” Josephine says, placing a hand on her son’s shoulder. There’s a perceptible wince, but he remains still.

---