“Listen to me,” she says, guiding my gaze to hers. “I’m going to have to let Sable take over. It’ll be better if she’s scared and confused when her heart stops. Because I’ll be alert and ready.”
She’s right. Layla will have the advantage if she’s waiting by the sidelines.
“As soon as I slip out of her in a minute, Sable is going to panic when she wakes up and sees that she’s in this pool with you. That’s when you do it. You shove her under, and you hold her down and you don’t let her up for air, no matter how scared you are or how guilty you feel.”
I imagine what that will be like for Sable. Being drowned with no knowledge of why. She’s going to be terrified. She’s going to fight back. And I’m somehow going to have to look past the fact that it’ll be Layla’s body I’m drowning as I kill Sable for a second time.
“Hey,” Layla says, her voice sympathetic and gentle. She’s looking at me like she knows exactly what I’m thinking. She always does. She understands my thoughts as if they’re whispered into her head as soon as I have them. “You won’t be ending Sable’s life, Leeds. You’ll be saving mine. You can do this.”
That’s the perspective I needed to move forward. This is about what’s deserved. It isn’t about what’s moral. “Okay. You’re right. I can do this. We can do this.”
“Good. Okay.” She sucks in a rush of air, but it’s a fragile intake, marred by fear. “Are you ready?”
I shake my head adamantly because who could be ready for something like this? I take her face in my hands, and we lock eyes. She’s scared. Her lips are quivering. When her hands rest against my chest, I can feel her fingers trembling.
I owe this to her. She’s been forced to spend so much time here alone, waiting for someone she couldn’t remember. I press my forehead to hers, and we close our eyes. When I’m this close to her, I can feel an unfrayed connection not even death could break. We’re bound together for eternity, and if I don’t get this right—if I lose her—that tether will feel like a noose tightening around my heart until it stops.
I kiss her. I kiss her hard, and I don’t want to stop, because what if this is the last time I ever get to kiss her?
I kiss her until I taste tears. Both of ours.
I kiss her until she makes me stop.
She presses her forehead against my chest, and I can feel the sadness in her sigh. “I love you,” she says.
I wrap my arms tightly around her and press my cheek against the top of her head. “I love you, Layla.”
“Thank you for finding me,” she whispers.
And then she’s gone.
It’s no longer Layla I’m holding, but Sable. I can feel the change in the way she jerks against me and then lifts her head from my chest, wide eyed.
I have my hand over her mouth before she can even scream.
And maybe it’s the part of me that resents her that finds strength, or maybe it’s the part of me that wants Layla back more than I want air, but I do it. I shove her under. In order to hold her there, I have to use every part of me. I cage her body between my legs. I wrap my fingers in her hair for leverage.
She thrashes in the water . . . claws at my arms and my chest. She tries everything to escape—to take in a breath, but she’s screaming just under the surface, her lungs swiftly taking in water.
I stare up at the sky because if I look down at her, I’ll stop. I wouldn’t be able to look at Layla’s face and continue to do what I’m doing. And even though I know it’s Sable behind Layla’s eyes right now, if I looked into them, I’m afraid all I would see is a terrified Layla. I squeeze my eyes shut and tighten my hold.
I wait and I wait and I wait for her to stop struggling. It feels like it’ll never end. I count as I hold her under. I get all the way to one hundred and eighteen seconds before she finally stops fighting.
And even then, when I think it might be over, she claws at me again, her fingers seeking out a savior.
She grips my left wrist, and she squeezes it with very little strength.
Then . . . I feel nothing.
The underwater screams have ceased for several seconds. Her hair begins to slip through my fingers. I keep my eyes closed and hold my breath until I’m certain there isn’t any air left in her lungs. Then I slowly drop my gaze.
Her hair is covering her face, so I brush it out of the way. Her eyes are open, but they aren’t looking up at me. They aren’t looking at anything. There’s no focus to them. No life.