The Confession by Charlotte Bigland EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Charlotte Bigland
- Language: English
- Genre:Mystery Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
At the start of the evening, I hugged Joe’s warm, whole body. Now I’m
dragging it – cold and broken – from the river.
We’re damp, from the water and from the sticky red … from the slick
crimson … from the blood that seeps from his head. Rocks are hard against
my back and my feet scramble as I try to drag him up and onto the shore.
Tears are streaming from my eyes, which is simultaneously helpful and not;
further hindering my rescue attempt, but at least obscuring my view of his
… his protruding bones, raw gash, flesh and blood … blood …
I scream into the night. My scream chases away other sounds: the distant
shrieking of Courtney and Devlin, the rush of water as I finally haul him
from it. The gasping of some middle-aged woman, gawping at us and
filming the whole sorry episode.
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‘HELP!’ I yell at her. ‘I think he’s … I think he’s …’
He’s still alive. Please. My younger brother. Eighteen today. Eighteen, not
out, not gone, not over. My head lolls against the muddy shore as
exhaustion seizes me. Above us is the bridge from which he fell.
Fell?
The dark sky flashes red, for an instant. I recall hands on Joe’s back, recall
seeing Callum up there with him, a brief scuffle before Joe dropped fifty
metres into shallow water.
Fell?
No.
Pushed.
And Callum? My other brother is human fog: intangible and unreal
somehow. I look for him; can’t see him. I push myself up onto my elbows,
and twist my head from side to side, scanning Middlesbrough’s industrial
skyline, trying to spot my murderous brother through the dark, through my
tears.
He’s gone. The woman with the phone has disappeared too. I squeeze
Joe’s damp jacket and drag him further up, not daring to move my fingers
from under his armpits, incapable of allowing them to shift further round, to
check for a heartbeat I’m not sure is there.
I need to administer CPR. I need to administer CPR to a broken, bloody
face I can’t bear to look at.
There are footsteps from the path which runs along the river, and I look
towards the noise as a man and his dog appear a couple of dozen metres
from us. Relief floods my body. Help. Finally, someone I can rely on to
help.
‘It’s Joe! Please, need an ambulance or help me and he’s all … he’s so
cold and so wet and …’ and so broken and so heavy and so … empty and
heavy all at once.
‘PLEASE!’ I scream. The dog barks. The man’s face is in shadow but I
imagine it hardening, until it becomes reminiscent not of flesh and
familiarity, but of stone, or ice. Impenetrable. I thought I knew him. I
thought he would help. ‘PLEASE! PLEASE! Please! Please. Please …
please … please …’
He leaves and it’s just me and Joe. Joe’s blood on my palms, palms which
grow brave and travel to the shattered parts of him I don’t want to
acknowledge now exist. I try in vain to hold my broken brother together.
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