stop talking. She almost got away. I didn’t think I was hurt that bad until later. When they found me, I was passed out on the side of the road. I couldn’t talk for a long time. I don’t know why I told them that story, but everybody believed it.”
I swallow hard. “Jonathan, you lied when you said you never killed anyone.”
“I didn’t,” he says. “I was only holding Clara under the water to make her stop talking. Then she hit me. But she slipped in the mud, and she was already . . . confused. She went deeper into the water. She couldn’t get out. It was her choice. It took four minutes for her to go under and not come up.”
There’s so much wrong with him. I can’t fix him. I can’t fix any of it.
“That part wasn’t your fault,” I tell him. “You were hurt. Your skull was crushed. You couldn’t have saved her.”
When he speaks again, I finally hear emotion in his voice. Anger. “I don’t need your forgiveness.”
“You loved her.”
“Love is selfishness. Greed. That’s all it is. I asked Sam a question earlier,” he says then. “I asked if he wants you to live. He does. Just so you know. And that’s greedy too.”
I hear something powering up, and I don’t understand what it is. Some kind of engine.
“I have one last question to ask you, Gina Royal. Would you rather die falling,” he asks me, “or frying?”
I’m on metal stairs.
Oh God. He’s going to electrocute me.
28
KEZIA
I stay quiet, partly because I believe him when he says he’ll hurt my baby, and partly because I need to wait, to let him get comfortable. I need to act when he’s in the middle of something else, when he doesn’t have time to think.
Jonathan has Gwen to focus on now. Gwen, who’s come to the lighthouse to find me. And him. And I am helpless, and I have never hated myself more than I do right at this moment.
I’m sweating buckets. I listen silently to him as he talks to Gwen. As she hits him right in the tenderest spots. Gwen has only words, and she uses them like bullets. I see them hit home.
She’s right, I think. This bastard isn’t an avenging angel. He’s a broken devil, guilty to his bones, and she’s just ripped his mask right off.
Would you rather die falling, or frying? He’s already hitting a button when he asks it, and I don’t think, I don’t plan. I try to yell, “Jump, Gwen! Jump!” It comes out as a confused, muffled mumble from the gag.
She’s already in motion. She figured it out.
But she’s so high.
The camera that was on her loses her as she falls. Jonathan’s attention swings to another monitor, and I see the blur.
I see her hit the concrete floor, and it is brutal. I yell something, I don’t even know what it is, more of a denial than anything else. Gwen, make it, you have to make it . . .
Jonathan spins his chair toward me and lunges to his feet, and I realize I’m out of time. “I warned you,” he says. “You chose this.”
I choose the moment that he bends toward me, and I pull my knees in, lever myself up with all the power I can, and twist. My bound legs sweep in a fast arc across the floor and hit him midcalf, knocking him sideways. He’s crouching, off balance, and it dumps him hard on his side. He lets out a surprised yell, and I twist back and pull my legs in and slam my boots into his face. I hear bone crunch. He screams this time and tries to roll away. I don’t let him. I throw my legs over him and pull him in toward me and slam my heels down on his crotch with all the force I have.
He doesn’t even scream this time. He gags, mouth open like a dark hole. I use my legs to pull him closer, and then I heave myself up to a standing position over him. He’s fumbling for something. I don’t have time, I have to try.
I brace myself, and I pull forward with everything I have. Weight, strength, everything. I feel that broken rib stab hard, and it takes my breath away, but I try again. Again. I feel the pipe joint give near the top, just where it disappears from view. It hurts, oh God it hurts, and I think I might break