Page 4 of Deviant

It took me but a second to realize that it wasn’t sadness that brought her to Grove Bridge.

It was guilt—inescapable, all-consuming guilt.

But what could a good girl like Rowen possibly be guilty of?

It didn’t take a genius to figure that one out, either.

Especially given the suffering and grief my own family had experienced this past year.

The answer was simple.

Nora’s dead.

Rowen is not.

Which leads me to believe that she must be responsible for my sister’s death somehow.

I’d fucking bet my life on it.

And hers.

With the memory of that first night’s realization scraping away at the walls inside my brain, I flick my cigarette to the ground and stomp it with the heel of my boot, imagining her pretty little neck under it instead.

“Come on,” I curse impatiently under my breath as I watch the cool wind blow the strands of her reddish-brown hair, making them flow like a silk curtain behind her shoulders as she continues to stare death in the face.

I see her cheeks flush a deeper hue of crimson under the moonlight, the night chill caressing her face while she mumbles words too faint for me to catch from my hiding spot. However, I don’t really need subtitles to guess what she’s mumbling about. I suspect the words she is so arduously uttering like a prayer are similar to the ones I heard her say that very first night—a pitiful plea for forgiveness.

Nora.

I’m sorry.

I’m so sorry.

Forgive me.

“Fuck your sorrys and fucking jump already,” I snarl, but just as the curse spews from my lips, my breath catches in my throat when I see Rowen place her foot in midair as if, somehow,she heard my demand and finally decided to take a stroll to her death.

And when she goes a step further, closing her eyes and releasing one of the hands gripping the railing behind her, my knees almost buckle in frantic anticipation.

This is it.

She’s going to do it.

She’s going to jump.

“Come on… come on… that’s it… just one more step,” I whisper excitedly. “Be a good girl and jump. You know you want to.”

Just fucking do it, Rowen.

If you don’t, you’ll force my hand and make me do it for you.

My jaw clenches with each excruciating second that passes by while her foot hangs in the air, the wind toying with me as its strength threatens to aid her on her self-destructive mission.

“Just let go. Let fucking go.”

But just as I encourage her to take the next step, she pulls her foot back to solid ground, her hand clasping back the rail with all her might.

“Fucking coward,” I spit out, nostrils flaring in contempt.

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