Watery Grave, Part One
His eyes widened. "What?"
"No." The single word floated before her wrapped in the cloud of her cold breath in the January night.
"You misunderstand," he said.
She shook her head. "I understand just fine, Michael." She heard the waters of Swift River flowing loud and fast behind her, just one step, or one gentle push.
She blinked and when her eyes opened his were too close. "I won't allow this. I can't allow this," he whispered. When she didn't answer he shook his head and reached for her. There was nowhere to go, no way to avoid his touch. Warm fingers closed around her shaking hand. "Please. Do not make me do this," he said. His words were so soft that she wasn't sure he'd actual spoken them aloud.
"I won't," she said, and stepped back into the empty air. For a moment she thought he'd stop her, pull her back and keep her safe. For a moment, the pain in his eyes seemed too strong to let her go. Then the icy water slammed against her back, dragging her down as it swallowed her whole. Cold and confusion and pain tore through her body until there was nothing left to feel.
Michael looked down into the churning water, fought the urge to jump in after her and instead turned to face those standing on the rocky embankment. No one said a word as he walked toward them. No one met his eyes. "It's over," he said, passing through the motionless crowd. He felt their cold, hate-filled eyes boring into his back. "It had to be done," he muttered. No one heard.
To be continued in Part Two