Free Tainted by A. E. Rought Page A

know the fight is truly over. Cold truth floods in to snuff any attempt at disbelief. Emma doesn’t kick off from the dashboard and reach for me. Her body slumps toward the floor.
    Choking on sobs and the last of my held breath, I hook my hand under her arm and guide her body through the broken window. There’s no life in her when I clutch Em to my chest, no heartbeat, no tension in her muscles.
    For a bleak, desperate moment I think of taking in the river and dying with her. I deserve death after driving Emma to hers. Carefully, I turn her body to face mine. She’s pale, lips blue, an icy angel hanging limp in my grip. Heartbroken, I tuck her face to my chest.
    It would be so easy. We could be together forever. Just open my mouth and inhale…
    Frigid water trickles down my nose. I fight the life instinct to gag and swim for the surface. I earned this end.
    Her hair drifts on the river’s current, brushes my face as bubbles from the car push it toward the surface as if waving goodbye to life. Then a beam of light pierces the depths, and breaks through my black thoughts. It’s a path to follow, a way to ascend this loss.
    Maybe Emma doesn’t have to stay dead.
    Maybe I can bring her back to the surface, back to life with CPR.
    Because I can’t let her go.
    Using the bumper to push for the surface, I cling to my love and swim for the air, the muddy bank and hopefully my salvation. Her breath, her heartbeat. My life narrows to resuscitating her.
    Jason’s on the river bank when I crest the water’s surface.
    “Holy shit, man!” He’s fidgeting, panicky, pulling at his spikey hair. “Emma! Is she…”
    I shake my head. She’s gone.
    “Oh fuck.” Instead of helping pull Emma from the river, the flashlight drops from his hand and he sinks to his butt.
    Sand and snow mix in the wet ribbons of Emma’s hair when I push her up the bank. The water washes by, tugging on her dress, stubbornly refusing to let her go. My dad beat Mother Nature, so can I. Em hasn’t been gone that long.
    Something rips the knee of my pants when I scramble out of the water. Hot blood rushes down my shin. I use the protruding edge to wedge my foot and drag Emma farther out. Jason’s voice matches the wind though the grass, keening and wordless. He’s as gone as Em. He jerks a foot away when I tip Em to the side. She’s a broken doll, and I have to open her mouth to let water pour from her throat. The killer liquid gushes down the bank, shiny and insidious, taking out snow in its passing.
    Inside, I’m dying, everything fractured and clinging to denial.
    Outside, I’m all business. I ease her body back, tip her head to clear her airway. I can’t fall apart now. Eyes on her open, blank ones, I start CPR. My stomach rolls at the wet sounds coming from her chest, but I don’t stop. Thirty compressions and two breaths. Thirty and two.
    Jason’s crying peters out. I hear him behind me, muttering about Bree, Em’s parents, “Em can’t be dead,” and back through the cycle. Then, he says, “Someone needs to call the authorities.”
    The words flash through me, rattle something savage. I don’t know I’ve snapped until I see the shock in Jason’s eyes, only inches from mine.
    “Do not call anyone!” I yell, then lunge back to continue breaths and chest compressions.
    Thirty and two. Burbling sounds. Thirty and two. Bubbles.
    “Come on!” I shout at her. “You are not dead!”
    If she is, then I am.
    Thirty and two.
    A hand touches my shoulder. I keep up with CPR, ignoring Jason’s attempts to reach me.
    Pump the blood. Breathe for her. It will work. I won’t have to stoop to my father’s sins.
    His grip tightens. “Alex,” he says.
    Em blurs in my vision.
    “Alex.” Jason’s voice is soft and strong at the same time. “She’s gone.”
    I know.
    Drawing in a breath, I rock back on my heels and rage at the night until I can’t scream, can’t cry, can hardly breathe.
    Dead inside, I collapse to the mud beside Em’s body