Because of me.
Chapter Seventy-Four
JUSTIN
The rain is coming down in a steady deluge by the time the bridge comes into view. Visibility through the windshield of Michael McMillain’s car is basically nonexistent; he’s slowed to a cautious crawl as we approach the bridge.
“I’ll just get out here,” I say, pushing open my door. Rain flings itself into the car, splattering the maroon fabric of the seat and instantly drenching the right side of my body.
“But—”
“Thanks for the ride,” I say, cutting him off. Poor guy already seemed taken aback when I showed up on his doorstep asking him for a ride to the hospital—a route that just so happens to take us right by Wilson Bridge—just a few minutes after initially turning him down, but he grabbed his keys and helped me to his car, no questions asked. Now he blinks at me in bewilderment as I leap out of the still-moving car and slam the door, stumbling as I hit the pavement.
I can hear him calling after me through the closed car window, but after a few steps, the sound of the rain drowns him out. I would feel bad, but right now I have bigger things to worry about.
Calm washes through me like a tide as I step onto the bridge. My heart is racing, my breathing heavy, but in my mind, it is quiet. As soon as I decided to go to the bridge and not the school, it was like all my anxiety drained away.
Rose kept telling me how sure she was that we were on the right path. I never understood it. I feel like I’ve been fumbling in the dark since I got here.
But now I’m not fumbling anymore. It’s like Thor’s rainbow bridge just lit up right in front of me, and all I have to do is follow it.
It was never about the school. That was Stan’s mistake. He always stayed focused on the school, because he was sure this was about us. About me. But it’s not. I sent Noah to the school, hoping that if it’s not me, maybe it can be him.
This is where I’m supposed to be. The bridge. I thought I kept coming back here because it was where it all started. But I think I was actually drawn here because this is where it’s supposed to end.
It was always about the where, not just the when. This place. This time.
I don’t worry anymore. I don’t second-guess. I don’t even think.
I just run. My knee throbs, threatening to buckle underneath me, but I know it will hold. It has to.
At first, I don’t know what I’m looking for. I can barely see or hear anything through the rain, but I keep my eyes as wide as I can, trusting that I’ll see what I need to.
There. A hazy figure on the sidewalk, hunched under an umbrella, moving toward me. Nearly invisible through the pouring rain, unless you were already looking.
If I had more time, I might wonder what she’s doing here, where her car is, what’s about to happen.
But my time here has always been borrowed, and I can feel it slipping away. My feet burn like I’m escaping a fire. I have to get to her, now.
“Rose!” I yell with as much volume as I can muster. I wave my arms. “Go back! Get off the bridge!”
It’s no use. I’m too far away. She’s not looking at me. My words are swallowed by the wind and the rain and the rush of the river.
There’s no one here but us—not that I can see through the rain anyway—but I can’t shake the feeling that this is wrong, this is dangerous, that being on this bridge tonight is death. I can’t explain it, but I don’t have to. I just need to trust it.
I push my legs faster, rocketing toward Rose, who’s moving slowly up the sidewalk. The giant steel arches above me like an open mouth. It seems like it takes an agonizingly long time to get to her.
When I’m about ten yards away, I hear it.
An engine. Rumbling toward us.
I look back to see headlights pushing through the rain.
“Rose!” I call again. If not for the rain, she would almost definitely hear me, but her eyes stay downcast, focused on the sidewalk in front of her, her umbrella tipped forward like a shield.
The car is moving fast, far faster than Michael McMillain was willing to risk driving during this downpour. It’ll catch up with us any second.
I break into a sprint. Rose should be safe on the sidewalk, but I somehow know that she isn’t. “Rose!”
The car is close enough now that its headlights find us. Rose glances up, her eyes widening in alarm as the beams wash across her face.
“Move!” is all I can think to yell. Adrenaline floods my veins, and I push myself faster, faster, until I feel like I’m flying.
Don’t let me be too late.
Everything happens in an instant.
I reach Rose as the car swerves wildly, reacting to some invisible obstacle. She glows in its headlights, her eyes as round as the moon overhead.
My hands lock onto her arms. I feel calm. Peaceful. Her terrified eyes jump from the car to my face. It’s okay, I try to tell her with my eyes. It’s not your fault. This is why I’m here.
I didn’t understand it until this moment, but now I do. I wonder, is this what Rose has felt all this time? Is this faith?
I feel strong. Superhuman. Like I could lift a train.
I throw Rose out of the way. It’s easy, as if she weighs nothing at all. She flies up, and back, and away, her arms spreading like wings. Like a bird, my mind suggests, except I know immediately that’s not right.
No. Not a bird.
An angel.
I smile, and close my eyes.
When the car slams into me, I feel no pain.
Chapter Seventy-Five
JUSTIN
The first time I died, I didn’t understand what had happened to me. I thought maybe I was still alive, or asleep. I thought I was a time traveler. And maybe I was.
This time, I recognize it for what it is. I don’t wonder whether I might come back after this. I know I am finished. Maybe a version of me will exist, someday. A boy with my face and birthday and voice. But he won’t be me.
My life ended the moment I fell from this bridge. It just took me a week to die.
They say that when you die, your life flashes before your eyes.
Turns out, that’s only partially true.
I don’t see my life. I see the people in it.
Flash.
Alyssa. She deserves so much more than what I’ve been able to give her. Maybe that future me, the one who will not be me, will be better for her. I hope he will.
Flash.
Stan. He was wrong about what I would have to do, but he did his best. Maybe he hated me because he knew I was doomed to fail. Maybe I hated him because, somehow, I knew he already had.
Stan won’t exist now. No one will mourn him. I don’t think he would mind.
Flash.
My mom. I don’t think of her as I last saw her, passed out facedown on her bed. Instead, I think of Millie, smiling and laughing as she plays at her mother’s feet. She loves, and knows she is loved. Maybe this time, she will get to hold on to that feeling as she grows up. Maybe she will be happy. I hope she gets to be happy.
Flash.
Bill and Veronica. My grandparents. I hope Noah saved them tonight. I never really knew them—even as I was trying to save them, I didn’t know them. They are good people, though; I’m sure of that. Just as I’m sure that I was never here for them.
Flash.
That night on the bridge, the first time I died. I didn’t recognize her then, but the memory is as clear now as looking through a window. A figure in my headlights, standing somewhere she was never meant to be.