Before We Fall

Chapter Twenty-Six

Dominic

The world is unraveling.

After I arrive a few hours late and receive a firm chastising from the director, I go through the motions on-set, then fly back to Chicago, then go to work at the gym. The entire time, I can’t feel anything. I’m utterly numb. But when I walk into the gym, my breath catches, because for the first time in days I feel something.

The desire to see Jacey.

And when I do see her, when I bump into her, she turns away like I’m not there, like I don’t even exist, exactly the way I’ve treated her a hundred times in the past. And that moment is when I know why the world is falling to shit.

I need her.

I need her in my life. I knew I wanted her before, but to know that I need her is something entirely different, something terrifying, and the mere thought causes my heart to pound. The problem is, she doesn’t need me. She’s barely acknowledges my presence, barely glances at me.

She’s definitely learned the art of being detached from its best practitioner.

Me.

Being on the receiving end of such iciness is complete shit. For the first time in years, my heart fucking hurts… because I’ve opened it up to that. It’s an aching reminder of why I’ve always shut myself off, away from people.

It isn’t worth the pain.

I look around as I wipe off the counters in the kitchen, musing about how much has changed in a few weeks time. I just finished making twenty peanut butter sandwiches and wrapping them in foil. Why?

Because Joe insists on sending sandwiches home with the boys, because so many of them don’t have enough to eat. Why does this signify change? Because I just found myself making a mental note to buy some pre-charged debit cards to send home with some of them for groceries. They shouldn’t have to worry about eating.

But this isn’t something I would even have thought of a month ago.

Just like how a month ago, my heart wouldn’t be hurting. It would be safe and sound in its cage of ice. I’m not sure what’s better.

Jacey sticks her head into the kitchen, interrupting my thoughts and talking to me for the first time since we arrived this morning.

“Hey, have you seen the ladder?” she asks me quietly, hesitantly. She glances around the kitchen for it at the same time I do.

“No,” I tell her needlessly. “It’s not here.”

She starts to turn away, but I say her name and she looks back at me. She pauses in the doorway hesitatingly, her eyes saying what her lips won’t.

I trusted you. But it was a mistake and I won’t do it again.

It gives me pause and I close my mouth, swallowing all of the words that I’d wanted to say.

I’m conflicted. I might need her, but that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t give her what she needs.

She looks impatient, but all I can do is shake my head. “Never mind.”

She turns and walks away, but not before I see the disappointment flash across her face.

To distract myself from thinking about her, or about the fact that I might’ve let the only good person that I know in the world slip through my fingers, I pile the sandwiches in several neat stacks and fold napkins to go with them.

As I fold the last napkin, I hear a commotion coming from the gym. Curious, I head out to see what’s going on, only to find a crowd of boys congregated around the ladder in the middle of the room. Some are kneeling, some are standing, but they’re all in a circle around something.

My heart starts pounding as I see Jacey’s pink tennis shoe poking through the legs.

Shoving through the crowd, I get there just as Joe does.

Jacey is motionless on the floor, and my heart stops as I stare down at her limp form. She’s crumpled on the floor, utterly still, her face devoid of color, her eyes closed.

Holy fuck. I can’t breathe. Because I can’t lose her. Because she doesn’t deserve this.

Because I can’t do this again.

“What the hell happened?” Joe barks as he kneels down beside her. I’m motionless, frozen, as I stare at her still body.

“She was changing the light bulb like you asked,” Tig explains quickly. “But she tripped coming back down the ladder. I think she hit her head on the cement.”

“Jesus,” Joe mutters as he feels her head. “That’s a big lump. Someone call an ambulance.” No one moves, so he barks, “Now!”

Jake bolts for the office and I’m finally able to move.

I woodenly shove through the boys and drop to my knees beside her. I grab her hand and her fingers are so cold. The coldness sends panic rippling through me, and I shake her shoulder. Hard.

“Jacey, wake up,” I tell her firmly, my heart firmly lodged in my throat. “Wake up.”

She doesn’t even twitch.

This can’t be happening again.

“Jacey,” I shake her. “Jacey.”

I’m panicked now, overwhelmed by emotion and déjà vu, so much so that I can’t think straight. The last time I was in this situation it didn’t end well.

It can’t happen this time.

This time, all I can think is that I need to make Jacey wake up, no matter what it takes. I squeeze her hand and shake her shoulder, chanting her name.

“Be careful, son,” Joe advises. “You shouldn’t move her neck.”

“I’m not your son,” I tell him without even looking up. “She needs to wake up.”

“Yes,” Joe agrees calmly. “She does. But don’t move her.”

I ignore him and shake her lightly one more time, and we’re both surprised when she opens her eyes. A thrill like a jolt of electricity ripples through me.

“Dominic?” she asks groggily, staring at me with blurry eyes, trying to focus. “What happened?”

The relief that floods me is overwhelming. Thank Christ.

“You fell,” I tell her softly. “And you hit your head, but you’re going to be fine. We’re going to take you to the hospital.”

“An ambulance is on the way,” Jake calls out, jogging over from the office. “Did you trip on your bad foot, Jace?” he asks, kneeling next to me and staring down at Jacey.

She shakes her head in confusion. “I don’t know.”

Guilt eats at me because I didn’t even know her foot was still bothering her. What I do know is she hurt her foot in the first place because of me. Protecting me.

I sit with her wordlessly, holding her hand until the paramedics arrive. They load her onto a gurney and roll her into the back of the ambulance, where I insist on riding with her. She’s still disoriented, and I can’t stand the thought of sending her away alone.

“Are you a family member?” one of them asks, staring at me curiously. I see the realization when it dawns. “Aren’t you Dominic Kinkaide?”

“Yeah,” I nod. “I’m her brother.”

Jacey’s eyes are fluttering closed again. At this point and the EMT looks at me, knowing that I’m lying but not questioning my words. “Keep your sister awake,” she instructs. “I’m going to start an IV.”

I squeeze Jacey’s hand.

“Jace, you’ve got to stay awake. Let’s talk about the Ferris wheel at Navy Pier. Or about racing. Do you want to go back out to the track?”

“Not with you,” she tells me groggily, her eyelids fluttering. “I’m not going anywhere with you again, Dom. You’re fucking toxic.”

The EMT glances at me as she pushes a syringe into an IV line. “She’s probably confused. It’s common with head injuries.”

Jacey’s not confused. At all. She’s never made more sense. But her words have never been more painful.

“It’s okay, Jace,” I tell her. “We’ll talk about this when you feel better. For now, you’ve got to stay awake. You hit your head hard. You picked one of the only spots that isn’t covered with a mat to fall on. You probably should’ve planned that a little better.”

She doesn’t crack a smile. Her eyes stay closed, but I know she’s awake because she’s still squeezing my hand from time to time.

I talk with her the entire ride to the hospital, but when we arrive, they wheel her away on the squeaky gurney and make me stay in the waiting room.

The emergency room waiting area seems like a wasteland for lost souls. People are hunched over and tired, people are sick, people are curled up and sad. It sucks the energy out of me, and I hunker down in my seat, hoping no one recognizes me. I’m definitely not in the mood for that.

I keep my nose buried in tattered magazines until I’m called back an hour later.

“You’re her brother?” the doctor asks. I nod. What’s another lie in the scheme of things?

“Your sister has a mild concussion. She’s actually really lucky, because from what I was told, she fell from rather high up. We can keep her overnight, but she’d be more comfortable in her own bed. The thing is, she shouldn’t be alone. Would you or someone else be able to stay with her? Wake her up every couple of hours to make sure that she’s lucid? If she acts out of it, or if you can’t wake her, call an ambulance. Do you feel comfortable with that?”

I nod. “Of course. I’ll stay with her myself.”

The doctor smiles tiredly. “Great. I’ll get her paperwork ready and she’ll be ready to go soon.”

More waiting.

The clock ticks slowly on and I sigh. Apparently, it doesn’t make it go any faster to watch it.

I get a cup of shitty hospital coffee, arrange for Jacey’s bill to be sent to me, and am back in the waiting room by the time a nurse comes wheeling her out. Jacey looks disgruntled and she hasn’t even seen me yet.

“I don’t need anyone to babysit me,” she grumbles to the nurse as I get to my feet. I have to smile at her attitude.

The nurse looks at me in relief, probably anxious to get Jacey off her hands.

“Your brother is here to take you home. He’s going to watch you tonight.”

Jacey’s head snaps up and she looks around.

“Gabe’s here?” she asks, and it pains me to hear the excitement in her voice. I hate to be the one to disappoint her.

“No, it’s just me,” I tell her. “I’m going to sit with you tonight.”

She stares at me, her expression falling like a stone, but she doesn’t reveal my lie to the nurse. She waits until exactly five minutes later when we’re in my car alone to rip into me.

“What the fuck?” she snaps as I drive out of the parking garage and toward her little house. “You think you can take advantage of me when I’m down? Really? That’s how you operate? I don’t want you to stay with me, Dominic.”

“I just want to help,” I assure her, glancing at the way she’s rubbing her head. “I’m sorry you fell, Jacey. I feel responsible because you hurt your foot in the first place because of me. Just let me take care of you tonight, then I’ll leave you alone. I promise.”

“No,” Jacey snaps, staring at me, her brown eyes snapping. “Just… no. Stop the car and I’ll call someone else.”

“Like Brand?” I ask acerbically. “You want him to come riding to your rescue again and you can pretend that you don’t know what he feels for you?”

Jacey stares at me, her gaze falling, and for a minute I feel bad for goading her. But shit. She can’t keep running to him every time she has a problem.

“I’m too tired to argue,” Jacey finally says wearily, leaning her head against the window. “Brand and I had a come-to-Jesus, and you were right, okay? Is that what you want to hear? You were right. Brand’s in love with me. I don’t feel the same way, and it’s driving a wedge in between us, so I can’t call him. I’m on my own. Just… take me home and drop me off, if you want to help. I’m so tired that I can’t stay awake.”

I’m stunned about her and Brand. I’m stunned she would tell me that I was right all along. I’m stunned that she’s not going to call him anyway because she leans on him for everything.

A part of me feels intense satisfaction that she’s not leaning on him tonight.

I’m here instead.

“I’m sorry about Brand,” I tell her. “I know how much you love him.”

“Let’s not talk about him,” she answers firmly. “Let’s just… not.”

“Okay,” I reply, ignoring her icy tone. “Then I’ll just tell you that you’re not on your own. I’m here. And it’s normal to feel sleepy. You can go to sleep when we get to your house, but I have to stay with you and wake you up every two hours. Doctor’s orders.”

“Oh, fucking great,” she mutters, closing her eyes. “I can’t wait.”

When we get to her house, she changes into pajamas and then climbs into bed.

“You can sleep on the sofa,” she tells me firmly as I pull the blankets up to her chin. I nod.

“Whatever makes you comfortable.”

“You leaving would make me comfortable,” she grumbles and rolls onto her side, dismissing me. I settle myself on the sofa.

I don’t sleep. Instead I read a book until it’s time to wake her up the first time.

As I stare down at her, I can’t help but notice how innocent and beautiful she looks while she’s asleep. Completely trusting. I gently shake her shoulder and she opens her eyes.

“Jacey, do you feel all right?”

She nods.

“Yes or no?” I clarify.

“Yes,” she sighs.

“What’s your full name?”

“Jaselyn Elizabeth Vincent.”

“I didn’t know that,” I tell her. “It’s pretty.”

It suits her. But I don’t add that.

“It’s after my grandma.” She yawns. “When I was born, Gabe couldn’t say it very well. He called me Jacey, and eventually everyone else did too. Can I go back to sleep now?”

“I don’t think so,” I tell her uncertainly. “I need to make sure you’re lucid first.”

She stares at me, and I can see when the sleep lifts and clarity sets in. Her expression hardens.

“Why are you here, Dominic?” she asks suddenly. “You could’ve told the hospital the truth—and they would’ve asked me for someone else to call. You didn’t have to stay there and you don’t have to stay here now. What kind of game are you playing?”

A tiny muscle in my jaw ticks. “I don’t know,” I answer her honestly. “But it’s not a game. For once, it’s not a game. I want to be here.”

She sighs, a tiny sound in the night. “But why? You’re only making things worse. You’re dragging things out when we need to just end them. It’s cleaner that way. Less painful. Trust me, I know all about endings.”

“I don’t want to end things,” I tell her raggedly. I know that her response could crush me, but I can’t take it back. “I don’t want to end things,” I repeat.

As I say the words aloud, it validates what I feel even more. I don’t want to end things. I don’t know what I want, but I don’t want that. Somehow, against my best efforts, I’ve let her in. And now that she’s in, I can’t let go of her. I can’t experience that kind of loss again.

She closes her eyes. “You can’t give me what I need, Dominic,” she says plainly. “So what’s the point? I can’t settle for less. Not anymore.”

Panic wells up in me, leaving a bitter taste on my tongue, because she might be right. Not because I don’t want to give her what she needs, but because I might be incapable.

But I can fucking try.

“What do you need?” I ask, and the words scrape my throat painfully.

“You,” she answers simply. “All of you… and you aren’t able to give me that.”

My breath comes quicker now, in rasps and almost pants. I don’t know what a panic attack feels like, but I feel like I might be getting ready to have one. My ribs feel like steel bands that are constricting my lungs in a vise. I suck a harsh breath in, then let it out slowly.

“How do you know?” I ask finally. “I haven’t tried.”

“Because I know you,” she says simply, her eyes closed and her eyelashes dark against her pale cheeks. “I know you.”

“Do you?” I ask, my voice empty. “Do you really?”

Jacey opens her eyes again, and I see a million things there. Painful things, confused things.

Hopeful things.

“Fine. Maybe I don’t, so why don’t you tell me?” she suggests softly. “Tell me who you are. Tell me about Emma. That’s a start.”

Jesus. I can’t breathe.

The vise around my lungs moves to my heart, constricting it, crushing it, grinding it to a pulp while I try to breathe.

I manage to take a breath and stare into the corner of the room, into the dark.

“Why that?” I manage to ask. “Why do I have to talk about Emma? She doesn’t affect you and me.”

Jacey stares at me, her gaze dark. “Doesn’t she?” she asks softly. “You’re in love with her, Dominic. And she’s there… in every little thing you do.”

I squeeze my eyes closed, trying to force out the truth. But I know she’s right. Everything I do, everything that is fucked up about me, is because of Emma. And if I ever want to get past it, if I ever want something that is real and good, I have to confront it. I have to confront her.

“See?” Jacey asks quietly. “I knew you couldn’t do it. Just go, Dom. I’ll call Kaylie to sit with me.”

My eyes fly open.

“No,” I say firmly, fueled by desperation. “Let me try.” Jacey stares at me doubtfully, afraid to hope now.

“I’m not in love with Emma. She’s dead. I know that. But I can’t help but love her. She was my first everything. My first kiss, my first love, my first time. I’ll always love her. Because of everything that happened with her, I’ll never get away from it. From her.”

I pause, letting the words soak in for Jacey.

“Emma’s dead. She died a horrible death and it was the worst thing I’ve ever seen. I don’t think I can describe that night, I can’t even put it into words. I’ve never been able to talk about it with anyone… not even my family. I think about her face and that last night and I freeze up. The words die in my mouth and I can’t say them. But if you need this… if this is what you need… I’ll try.”

The air is charged between us, and it hangs heavily. But it doesn’t matter, because the one thing I need happens… Jacey’s face softens at my words and she nods.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers softly. “I know it’s hard. But I do need this. I need to understand what happened, because I think it will explain everything. I need to know you, Dom.”

I feel weak with relief, but at the same time I’m tense. I know I have one shot to explain, to make her understand, and I have to get it right. Even though there’s no getting anything with Emma’s fucked-up situation right. It was always all wrong. On every level.

I look out the window at the night sky as I speak. I can’t look at Jacey’s face… it might kill me to see her reaction. There’s no way I want to see her face when she hears what I did. Who I was. How I acted.

“Emma and I grew up together,” I begin. “She was always at my house, with Kira, playing with Duncan, Sin, Fiona, and me. We were all like family.”

“Until you started dating,” Jacey interrupts. I smile, just a little, at the memory of my first date with Emma.

“Yeah. Our first date was an accident… when we were sophomores. Her car died on our road. I was on my way out, so I picked her up and took her with me. I was driving my dad’s old classic Nova… and it had a cassette tape stuck in the deck. If we wanted to listen to anything, our only choice was “Brown Eyed Girl.” We probably listened to that song fifty times that night… but it turned out all right because the night ended with a goodnight kiss. All of a sudden, we realized that we didn’t feel like brother and sister anymore.”

Jacey stares at me, a knowing look in her eyes. “That’s how you knew about Brand. You recognized it because that’s what happened with you and Emma.”

I nod.

“We dated all through high school. No one said our names separately… we were like one person, Dom-and-Emma. But then, my senior year…”

My voice trails off as pain rips through me. Memories are so vivid, so fucking vivid, and I close my eyes against them.

The blood, the pain in Emma’s eyes. The guilt, Jesus Christ, the guilt.

My spine feels like it’s being ripped out of my body at the mere memory.

I swallow hard, then swallow again. Jacey waits patiently, but I can feel her watching me, wondering if I’m going to be able to do it.

“Emma killed herself because of me,” I finally manage to say thickly, and my tongue feels like a dead thing in my mouth.

All the blood, her blood, swims in front of my eyes, and for a moment I only see red. I’m starting to wonder if it’s the only color I’m ever going to see.

Jacey gasps a ragged breath and her eyes widen. “Oh my god. Jesus, Dominic.” She takes another breath. “What happened?”

I try to make myself numb, like I always do when I think about this, about Emma.

I reach into my pocket, turning the aquamarine pendant over and over in my fingers. Like always, knowing that she used to wear it around her neck when she was still healthy and alive calms me down enough so I can speak.

“Does it matter?” I finally answer. “The important thing is that she did. And it was my fault.”

Jacey stares at me, her eyes still horror filled, but now there’s something else too. Curiosity. A need to know. A need to understand. And beneath all that, a hope that I’m wrong—that I’m not to blame.

But I am.

“I can’t imagine how it was your fault,” she answers slowly. “Suicide is a personal choice. You couldn’t have made her do such a thing. But if you think that’s true, then we need to talk about it, because it has definitely affected you.”

I squeeze my eyes shut hard, trying to blink away the red, then take another breath.

“Emma cheated on me with Cris. She told me about it and she cried. She was so sorry. Apparently, they got drunk one night when I was out with other friends. One thing led to another, and they had sex. She was sorry and I was devastated.”

Jacey freezes now, her eyes glued to mine. “That’s why you hate Cris now.”

I nod silently.

Jacey stares at me a second, then speaks hesitantly. “Okay. I can see where you would be pissed at him. But to this degree? You were kids, Dom. I mean, you were teenagers. Even adults make that mistake.”

“I know.” I sigh. “But Emma got pregnant, Jacey. And since we always used condoms, we had a pretty good idea that the baby was Cris’s.”

I look away. “I remember standing over a pile of pregnancy tests in Emma’s bathroom, all of them showing a fuzzy pink plus sign. If I could go back in time to any one moment, it would be to that one. I would handle everything differently.”

I wouldn’t have annihilated her.

Jacey sucks in her breath, her hands twisted in her lap. “Jesus. I don’t know what to say, Dom. What happened?”

I failed her.

“I was so pissed at her,” I admit. “I screamed and she cried, but at the end of the day, it boiled down to one thing. I loved her. More than anything. More than a pregnancy, more than her cheating on me.”

“So you stayed with her?” Jacey asks hesitantly. I can see that that notion doesn’t match the idea of me that lives in her head. That’s because that version of me died with Emma.

“She swore to me that it was a one-time thing, an accident. That she’d been lonely because I’d been away so much, visiting colleges. I’d pulled away from her a little and Cris moved in. He took up my slack and hung out with her all the time. I should’ve seen what he was doing, but I didn’t. He was my best friend and I was blind.”

“So you think it was your fault that Emma cheated on you?” Jacey asks doubtfully.

I ignore that and take a gulp of water. “Because I could see that it was true, that Cris had swooped in on her and I’d been neglecting her, I forgave her. He took advantage of her. And they were drunk. But I demanded one thing from her in exchange for my forgiveness.”

I pause, staring out the window again as I remember the way Emma’s head had dropped when I told her. How I’d stood over her and how I didn’t feel sorry about what I was asking. I didn’t care that it devastated her. I didn’t care about anything but myself and my own pain.

I hadn’t even begun to know pain yet. I just didn’t know it at the time.

I don’t want to say the ugly words to Jacey. I don’t want her to know. But she prompts me.

“What did you demand?” she asks quietly, but there’s a certain knowingness to her tone, an aching fragile timbre. She knows.

“An abortion. I demanded that she have an abortion. I wasn’t man enough to raise his baby. I forgave her, but I couldn’t do that.”

Jacey’s quiet now, still. She watches me, waiting for me to continue. I don’t want to, but I know I have to. The bullet is out of the gun now. There’s no putting it back.

“We were just eighteen,” I say quietly, staring at the wall. “We were getting ready to go away to college together. We were going to have a new start, away from Cris. I made my forgiveness contingent on that one thing. She had to get an abortion. If she wouldn’t, then I was done. I made that very clear.”

Emma’s face is in my head, innocent and young, as she pleads with me.

Dominic, I can’t, she’d cried. My parents would kill me. And it’s wrong, Dom. It’s wrong.

“I pressured her hard,” I finally continue, even though those words are a gross understatement. “Every day. Every hour. She cried and I raged and I refused to give in. I didn’t care that her family was strict Catholic. I didn’t care that she thought her soul was in jeopardy and that her parents would never forgive her. In my head, I thought of the baby as an it, as Cris’s mistake. I didn’t think of it as an actual human life. I was too blinded by my anger and my hurt and my hate to care about anything but myself.”

I pause and stare at Jacey. “Do you see how selfish I was?”

Jacey is deathly pale as she stares at me, as a million thoughts flash through her eyes. “Anyone would’ve been upset, Dominic,” she finally answers hesitantly. I can see that she doesn’t know what to say. I can’t fault her for that… because who would?

I turn away, staring into the dark, trying to focus on the night instead of the memories in my head.

“I took her to get the abortion. It was a quiet ride. They wouldn’t let me go back with her, so she had to do it alone. On the way home, she huddled into the car door and cried. She wouldn’t talk to me for days. But she talked to Cris. Because a few days later, on our graduation day, I went over to her house and got there just as he was leaving. I lost my shit. I told her that I never wanted to see her again, that if she wanted Cris she could have him. So after making her have an abortion for me, I left her anyway.”

Jacey utters a weird noise, a guttural sound that I’ve never heard pass her lips before. Her knuckles graze her teeth as she presses her fist to her mouth.

“Emma skipped the graduation parties. She didn’t come and I didn’t care. I went to a party with Sin and Duncan that night, determined to get drunk and forget all about her. So that’s what I did. I was getting a lap dance from Taylor McKay when Emma called me. It was late and she was babbling and I couldn’t make heads or tails out of what she was saying… except that she’d cut her wrists. And that she needed me.”

“Did you go?” Jacey whispers, and I can see from her face she’s afraid of the answer.

“Of course I went. But it was too late to save her.”

Jacey shakes her head in disbelief now, like she’s expecting that I’m just spinning a tale, acting out a scene. “Dom… I…”

She doesn’t have the words. Because the answer is clear. I’m a horrible person. A monster.

I nod curtly, once, determined to keep my composure.

“Emma was a light. Everyone who met her knew that. She was too good for me. And I failed her. She trusted the wrong person, because I turned away when she needed me the most. I abandoned her. The worst part is that she loved me anyway.”

And she did. I’ll never forget the look on her face when she saw me come in. It was like everything was right in the world, even though she was dying in a sea of her own blood.

“What happened when you got there?” Jacey whispers.

I’m wooden now as I force the words from my lips. I stare back out the window, away from Jacey’s horror, as I see the memories in my head.

“The bed was covered in blood, and Emma was pale and shaking and cold. She’d sliced her arms from wrist to elbow, and I knew that it wasn’t a cry for help. She wanted to die. She didn’t want to be saved. She was surrounded by poems that she had written, all about death. I don’t know how I didn’t see that I’d broken her so completely.”

I pause, trying to untangle my tongue, trying to swallow the emotion that lingers there, trying to swallow the memories so that I can act calm. I’m a fucking actor, for Christ’s sake. I can act calm.

I somehow manage it, because my words come out in a wooden monotone. “There was so much blood. There were bloody footprints everywhere. I’ve never seen so much blood. She grabbed my shirt and clung to me and her hands were so cold. Her lips were so blue.”

She was so pale.

The blood.

The blood.

The blood.

I pause. “There was so much blood. We had towels wrapped around her arms, but they soaked through within minutes. The EMTs came in and she acted like they weren’t even there. She just kept apologizing to me. Telling me how sorry she was for killing our baby… a baby I’d never wanted in the first place. I begged her to hold on until they got her to the hospital, I begged her to try. But she didn’t even make it to the ambulance. I begged, but she died anyway.”

The room is quiet now, utterly silent but for the soft sounds of Jacey’s breathing. I close my eyes, and behind my eyelids a movie plays out. The movie of my life. The movie of the night that destroyed me.

“There was so much blood,” I murmur, seeing it like it was yesterday. Some emotion has slipped through my voice, but only a little. I’m still in check. For now. “I’ve never seen so much. Emma’s entire bed was covered in it. The towels were soaked, my clothes were soaked. It was all over my hands, my face. Her mom was screaming on the phone with emergency dispatch… her dad was crying. Emma and I were on her bed, and she got weaker and weaker so fast, and then she kept trying to tell me something, but she couldn’t get the words out. But I finally figured it out.”

I turn and look at Jacey. “She was saying Cris’s name.”

Jacey opens her mouth, but closes it again. There’s nothing she can say.

“I ignored it. I pretended I didn’t hear. Instead, I just told her that I was so sorry that I’d pressured her. I told her that I loved her and that I would always love her no matter what had happened with Cris. Nothing else mattered in that moment because I knew she was dying. I knew she only had a few minutes left, and I didn’t want to spend those minutes being ugly. In the end, all that matters is life. You forget the ugliness, you forget the pain. Just for one moment.”

My eyes burn and I look out the window, seeing Emma’s face. She was so beautiful, even then, even with her lips blue and her eyes wide and scared and sad. Her body was so slight, so cold as I held her.

“She died in my arms.”

Jacey is utterly silent, horror in her eyes. I don’t know what else to do but keep talking.

“I was drunk, but I’ll never forget how still she was. I didn’t even know she was gone at first… I was clutching her to me, pleading with her, and then all of a sudden I realized that she wasn’t answering. I pulled away from her, just a little, and she was like a rag doll. Her eyes were empty.” I pause, taking a deep breath, filling up lungs that don’t deserve the oxygen.

“She died while I was holding her, and I didn’t even know it. I don’t know when she took her last breath. Even at the end, she deserved so much more than me.”

“Jesus.” Jacey breathes, and horror is in her eyes as she looks at me. She finally sees me for the monster I am, but I don’t get any satisfaction from it. “Dominic, what she did wasn’t your fault. You were young and scared and you asked her to get an abortion. You didn’t ask her to kill herself. She did that on her own.”

“I did do it,” I argue firmly. “I annihilated her. I pushed her. She loved me so much, and all she wanted was to be with me. I practically pushed her into Cris’s arms by neglecting her. It was my fault. And then all she wanted was for me to forgive her, and I made her do an unimaginable thing. She couldn’t take it. She couldn’t live with the guilt.”

Jacey reaches over and grabs my hand again, her fingers small and cold. She holds it and I let her, but my heart is cold and empty. For the first time since it happened, I’ve told someone. And it doesn’t feel good.

“No one knows,” I add limply. “Her parents don’t even know. She didn’t leave a note. All she left were those fucking poems about death. I didn’t see the point in telling them all of the ugliness.”

“It might’ve given them some closure,” Jacey points out hesitantly. “They’ve probably been torturing themselves, wondering why she did it.”

“That didn’t occur to me,” I admit shakily. “I was so wrapped up in my own grief. After the funeral, they moved away. Mr. Brandt got a job in New York City and they moved to New Jersey. They couldn’t stand to stay in the same house where she died.”

Not in a house where one room was covered in their only daughter’s blood.

“I don’t blame them,” Jacey answers quietly.

“Me either,” I agree. “It’s one of the reasons I moved to California and rarely come home. Trust me, I totally get it.”

“And Cris,” Jacey says hesitantly. “You’ve never talked to Cris about it?”

“Fuck no,” I spit angrily. “I forgave Emma for what happened, but I’ll never fucking forgive Cris.”

“You’re carrying so much anger and hatred still,” Jacey points out slowly. “You blame Cris, you blame yourself. You’re mad at Emma, you love Emma. Those are a lot of unresolved emotions to carry, Dom. You’re not being fair to yourself. When we hate someone so much, we think that we’re hurting them. But we’re not. We’re only hurting ourselves, because carrying that much ugliness around is toxic.”

A knot forms in my throat, heavy and hard. I can’t swallow past it, and my eyes sting. I look up at the ceiling, I look out the window, I look at the floor. Anything to avoid looking at Jacey.

“Dominic,” she says softly. “Look at me.”

Reluctantly, I look at her.

“It wasn’t your fault that Emma died. She died from something she shouldn’t have done. If you’d known, you would’ve tried to stop her.”

I nod stiltedly. At least that much is true.

“And you can’t keep blaming yourself for such a terrible accident. Because it was an accident, Dominic. Emma wasn’t in her right mind. She was just a kid herself.”

I take a breath, and it’s ragged in the dark.

“She couldn’t live with the guilt. Before she started asking for Cris, she kept crying incoherently about the guilt. I told her that I’d forgiven her and she just shook her head. She couldn’t forgive herself and she couldn’t trust me to forgive her, either. So she killed herself. I might not have cut her wrists, but I killed her all the same.”