I signed the release papers with instructions to get plenty of fluids and rest. I’d left Matt a message that the hospital would release me at lunch but hadn’t heard back from him—not that I was surprised. He and my parents had only come by the hospital once and not together. I thought it had been to make sure I hadn’t slit my wrists, but the reality was, it appeared they’d hoped I had. None of the three stayed long. They came in to tell me how grief-stricken they were, as if I wasn’t myself, and left as quickly as they’d come. My mother and father couldn’t bear to look me in the eye, but Matt had. Matt had driven nails painfully into my psyche as he spewed hate. I accepted each word knowing what I’d hear from people who never loved me would be far worse. Everything that happened was my fault. I expected nothing less. There was nothing anyone could say I hadn’t already said to myself. No words could be more demeaning than those echoing in my head whether I was asleep or awake. It had been an accident, but the three most important people in my life had already made it clear—the life I’d cost them was far more precious than the one that remained.

I couldn’t disagree.

I’d never had a huge group of friends, but those I did were close. We were a tightly knit group. I had grown up in this town. I’d been in Wimberley since the day I was born, and those girls had been with me just as long. Our parents had grown up together. There were generations of family friends all residing in the town limits. The only time I’d ever left was for college, which was roughly half an hour away, and even after that, I came back and commuted to Austin when I accepted my first teaching position. But not one of them came to check on me. I was terrified to read the papers or turn on the news for fear of what reporters had to say. I dreaded walking out these doors alone for fear of the press. I knew the media would be brutal, but without anyone standing beside me, the public would have a field day. But I had to prepare myself to face this alone. And if Matt didn’t show, I’d have to catch a cab or use Uber to get home…not that I could be certain I still had a home.

The nurse escorted me to the door and proceeded to ask me if someone was coming to pick me up. I didn’t know, but I wasn’t about to share that with her. She’d been here the last two and a half days. She’d seen the lack of traffic in my room. There was no way she didn’t already know the answer, but I lied anyway.

“Yes, my fiancé will be here shortly. He’s stuck in traffic. I’ll just wait on the bench.” I twirled the diamond perched on my left finger. That reminder typically brought me comfort, but today it left me feeling empty, as though it was a lie. There would never be a for better or worse, in sickness and in health because Matt would never forgive me.

She presented me with a smile of pity and patted my arm. “Good luck to you, sweetie.”

The nurse left without my replying. She hadn’t ushered me out the entrance to the hospital where the press lurked hoping to get a glimpse of me, or a crappy shot of the mourning killer to splash on the front page. There was little to no traffic around while I sat on the cement block that served as a memorial to some patron of the hospital. Sunshine tried to ease my pain through the warmth of its rays, but not even the birds chirping or the leaves rustling in the trees could lessen the guilt weighing heavily on my shoulders.

People didn’t come back from this sort of thing. This was what caused someone to pull the trigger and rid their loved ones of having to make the choice of whether to stand by the soul they’d lost or the one who’d taken it.

There was no telling how long I sat there. I debated calling a cab but wasn’t sure where I’d have it take me. If Matt didn’t show, I wasn’t welcome home, but we’d been living together since I graduated from college. I didn’t have anywhere else to go. The only thing I knew to do was wait or call my parents. My emotions ran the gauntlet from humiliation, grief, sadness, and all the way back to self-loathing. I’d sat here staring at nothing for far longer than I’d realized. When I finally glanced at my phone, only to find it was four o’clock, I knew no one was going to show up for me.

Without anyone to turn to for advice, I booked a room in Austin near the school, and then called a cab. I didn’t want to deal with the fallout of my actions, but there was no way around it. I couldn’t afford to pay someone to drive me everywhere I went, nor would I be able to stay in a hotel for very long. As much as I didn’t want to do it, I had to get my car out of impound before I could hide for another day.

* * *

The woman at the impound lot was less than friendly, and while she didn’t say anything outright, it was more than obvious she knew who I was. Her co-worker shot me sympathetic glances but never spoke. I didn’t deserve sympathy. Every glare I received, every hurtful word mouthed before or after my name, was duly earned.

When the guy brought the car around, he held my stare a little longer than necessary and finally offered me a piece of advice before I left. “Get some plastic to cover up that window until you can get it replaced. Here’s the card for a guy who does good work.”

I took the business card and his advice. The moment he stepped aside, the sight of the broken window sliced through my heart. I couldn’t bear to see any more. There was no telling what was in the vehicle itself that would cause an onslaught of memories to shred my fragile spirit even further. But somehow, I had to force myself to get in…and drive away. My lungs burned trying to hold my breath, and tears stained my cheeks before I was even out of the parking lot. When I couldn’t wait any longer, I gasped for air, and his scent bombarded me. Joshua’s things sat in the front seat taunting me, but I couldn’t bring myself to pick them up and move them from sight. All I had to do was toss them in the backseat, but my hand refused to touch them.

The harder I fought internally, the more difficult it became to drive. I wasn’t far from the hotel, and the last time I’d pulled over it had ended in death. Horns blared as my indecision slowed my speed. Even cranking up the volume on the radio did nothing to drown out the guilt and damning thoughts I knew would end up consuming me. Just as I was about to give up, Siri directed me to my final destination a quarter of a mile away.

The hotel turned out to be a motel and certainly nothing fancy. But I didn’t need elaborate—I just had to have a place to crash, to gather my wits, and figure out what all I had to do. I would have to face manslaughter charges in the morning, and then figure out how the school was going to handle one of its professors facing such a grim future. I was sure my boss already knew what had happened, but I hadn’t heard from anyone at the University. I had taken Thursday and Friday off to go see my parents. I wasn’t expected back in class until Monday.

When I had left the house I shared with Matt on Wednesday afternoon, I never thought the weekend would be so dismal. I’d expected the normal antics from my parents but knew they’d be so happy to see Joshua they’d put my circumstances on the back burner. Not only had they not gotten to see him, now they’d never see him again. I had stolen that from them. I’d taken Joshua from the world. It would never matter that it was a situation that had gone terribly wrong, that I’d pulled over to prevent having an accident—none of that would bring me forgiveness. Thus far, no one but the police officer had even bothered to ask my side.

After I had checked in, I settled myself in the aged room. It was clean, but the mattress had seen better days, and the furniture was likely as old as I was. The only thing I had to be thankful for was the bag in my trunk that contained clothes for the weekend I should have spent relaxing by my parents’ pool. In desperate need of a bath, I opened the luggage and took out some shorts and a tank top. Showers have always been a source of relaxation for me, the way the hot steam loosened my muscles, and the sounds of the water beating the walls around me would wipe the world away. Today it did nothing other than allow the silence to seep in, and my thoughts came with it.

Joshua. Criminal charges. Joshua. My living situation. Joshua. Matt. Joshua. The University. Joshua. My parents. Joshua. My friends. Joshua.

Funeral.

Joshua.

Death.

Joshua.

Somehow standing in that stream of water in the rundown motel on the outskirts of the city, the weight of mortality hit me. It had been an accident. I’d never meant to hurt him. But regardless of my intentions, the end result had been the same. He would never see the light of day again. Those who loved him never got to say goodbye. My negligence, my desire to please everyone, my need to burn the midnight oil to keep commitments I never should have made—they resulted in death.

His death. Joshua.

For the first time since I’d woken in the hospital room, the enormity, the severity, the finality of one decision hit me like a freight train. Every drop of water pelted my skin, but what normally resulted in pleasure was crashing down in pain. Each drip bombarded me with another memory, memories that started slaughtering me so fast I couldn’t comprehend them all. I sank to my butt on the motel tub, my head cradled in my hands, and drew my knees to my chest. My long hair was plastered to my body, and I rocked until the water turned cold. There was no way I could face life on the other side of this. No possibility of dealing with the fallout of something that never should have happened. I’d done the responsible thing. I’d pulled over at a rest stop. Nothing should have happened. It was the middle of the afternoon. It just didn’t make any sense. None of it made sense.

“Why?” I wailed at no one but hoped someone would grant me an answer to a question I never wanted to ask. My palms slapped the water pooled in the bottom of the tub, the sound that reverberated off the porcelain startled me but not enough to cease my cries. The word slid off my tongue in muttered melancholy. “Why, why?” The sobs turned to hiccups leaving me a wreck as each drop from the shower stabbed at my prickled skin.

The little energy that remained I exhausted, finally standing to turn off the faucet and dry myself off. After sliding on clean clothes, I swathed my tired body in a blanket from the bed and collapsed. There was no telling how long I stared at the wall before I finally slept, but being asleep was worse than being awake. My subconscious was a vicious beast insistent upon my reliving the nightmare.