Page 125 of Her Dark Lies

---

“What have you done?” Elliot replies with horror.

“That doesn’t matter now. Is she dead?”

A pause. They must be looking over the edge. Yes, the light, the flashing of a light as it sweeps across the rocks, looking for my body.

I know there is blood. I know I must look broken. I was able to move my mouth away from the water, yes, but that won’t save me for long. I hold my breath, only taking tiny sips of air when it seems I will die if I do not.

The light finds me. It lingers.

Lingers.

Lingers.

“She’s not moving,” Elliot says.

“But is she dead?” Jack asks.

“How am I supposed to know? She’s got a broken leg, it’s twisted funny. And she’s not moving. There’s blood. A lot of blood.”

I feel a deep, strange satisfaction by the fear and revulsion in Elliot’s voice.

Good. I hope you drown, broken and bloodied, on these very rocks.

If I get out of here, I will make sure you do.

“You shouldn’t have chased her,” Jack says.

“You shouldn’t have pushed her,” Elliot spits back.

The water, again the water, lapping, lapping. It’s splashing over my face now, and I time my breaths to coincide with the recession of the small waves.

Splash.

Breath.

Splash.

Breath.

The light disappears.

Jack says, “If she’s not dead, she will be shortly. The tide is coming in. It will wash her body away. When they find her—if they find her—we can say she disappeared and must have fallen off the cliff.”

“Should we get help?” Elliot asks.

It is Ana who answers, her voice hard in the night. “No. Absolutely not. Come away. There’s nothing to be done now. It’s over.”

JULY

Rough wind, that moanest loud

Grief too sad for song;

Wild wind, when sullen cloud

Knells all the night long;

Sad storm whose tears are vain,

---