Page 61 of Wait in the Truck
Because I know where I’m headed—straight to the gates of hell to hand deliver Samuel like a fucking Amazon package.
As I draw closer, his truck sinks like a steel corpse, headlights flickering as if the machine itself knows it’s dying. A frantic swirl of bubbles escapes from the cab, a last-ditch, pitiful attempt at life that won’t make a damndifference. He’s losing air, and I’ve never loved watching something die so much in my life.
Almost there.
My muscles scream as I fight against the current, pushing myself closer, deeper. My lungs ache, but I don’t give a fuck. I reach the driver’s side, fingers curling around the door handle, holding it in place.
Lightning illuminates the sky, followed by the rattle of thunder, covering the truck’s flooded cab in a sick, fleeting glow. And there he is, a pathetic, twitching animal, his face distorted in terror, wide eyes bulging, mouth already gasping for air that no longer exists. There’s only one thing that matters now, and that’s the moment I press my hand against the glass and watch his worthless, pathetic existence drown.
I smile.
He pounds against the window with shaking hands, his movements clumsy, sluggish, desperate. Every punch lands with a weak, muffled thud. I imagine he thought he’d go out fighting, that he’d have one last shot at clawing his way out, but reality is so much crueler than fiction.
And I want him to feel that.
His chest heaves, every muscle in his body straining to escape the inevitable, but it’s already happening. I can see it in his eyes. He knows. He fucking knows. The moment is coming, the second his body realizes there’s no air left, that the water will flood his lungs whether he wants it to or not.
And God, I want to see it.
The raw, violent fear. The moment his body betrays him. The absolute fucking devastation when he understands this is how it ends—alone, helpless, cold, choking on the same fate he tried to force on Sage. A beautiful kind of justice.
I press my shoulder against the door, pinning it shut, my grip tightening on the handle like a vise. I’m not letting go until I’ve had my fill.
He stares at me through the glass, his eyes pleading, his lips moving around words I can’t hear. Maybe he’s begging, maybe he’s cursing me, maybe he’s praying. It doesn’t matter. No one is listening.
Lightning burns the sky again, and I raise my hand, extending a single middle finger against the glass, letting the storm’s reflection carve the moment into permanence.This is the last thing you get to see, Sam.A fitting goodbye for a worthless piece of shit.
The last pocket of air in the cab collapses in on itself, spiraling up toward the surface, and I watch, fascinated, as his body fights against the inevitable. His hands scrabble, nails scraping at the window, legs kicking in a wild, useless frenzy. The panic hits him full force, and it’s beautiful.
His lungs give in. His body spasms violently, one last desperate fight, and I watch, mesmerized, as the oxygen is stolen from his lungs, his expression shifting from rage to terror to an agonizing, slack-jawed vacancy.
The body doesn’t lie, not in the end.
A dark shudder rolls through me—something I can’t name, something more than relief, more than satisfaction, something deeper and dirtier. I shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as I am. Shouldn’t feel this deep ache of contentment spreading through my chest. But the cold, merciless thrill of watching the life drain from his eyes settles into my blood like a drug I never knew I craved.
Saving Sage is ingrained in me. Nobody hurts her and lives to tell the tale.
For her, I would never hesitate, and I don’t regret a fucking second of it.
Thunder crashes overhead, rattling the river like a beast made of sky and fury, and my lungs finally scream for oxygen. I can’t stay here forever.
I force myself to break the moment, to put the mask back on, to turn this into something salvageable. I pretend to fight against the door, pretend to struggle with the handle, my movements deliberate, frantic, calculated. I smash the window just late enough.
I lunge forward, grab his collar, and haul his dead weight toward me.
The river laughs, its current taunting me, as if daring me to let him sink into the black. And fuck, I want to. I want to let him rot down here with the fish and silt; let his bones scatter and his body disappear into nothing.
But I need a body.
I need a hero’s effort.
I kick toward the surface, towing his corpse with me, playing the part to perfection.
The night rips open as I break through the water, sucking in a raw, desperate breath, rain slashing down like razors.
The sirens are closer now, blaring in a cacophony of righteous fury. Flashing red-and-blue lights slash across the storm, painting the world in shards of crime scene colors.
And Sage. She’s there. Standing in the rain, drenched and shaking, eyes locked on me, mouth parted as if she doesn’t know whether to cry or collapse.
