Page 111 of Darkwater Lane

29

GWEN

The water swallows Madison in an instant. The coiled rope attaching her ankle to the cinderblock zips over the edge of the hull as the slack runs out. I drop my gun and lunge for it, barely managing to grab hold of it. It burns through my fingers, tearing the skin from my palm. I tighten my grip, trying to stop it, but I can’t.

Not in time.

I have a split second to decide what to do: whether to let go or hold on.

If I let go, Madison dies.

If I hold on, I have a chance to save her, but it means leaving Sam.

Sam is stable.

The police are on their way.

I can’t let Madison go.

I need her to prove Sam’s innocence.

I’m out of time.

The rope pulls tight, and I’m yanked in after her.

The water is pure darkness. Like beingswallowed by a black hole. It’s a frigid vise, clamping around my lungs. Instinct demands I let go and swim for the surface.

I ignore it. Even as I’m dragged deeper and deeper—into an abyss that is the absence of light. Of sound. Of heat.

Already, the pressure on my ears becomes painful. We’re being pulled down too fast. The weight of the concrete too much. I kick against the momentum of the cinderblock, but it’s impossible.

Despite my efforts, we’re both dragged down, down, down. Too much farther, and it will be too deep. I’ll lose the battle with my screaming lungs.

I grab the knife in my pocket.

Flick it open.

Feel for the rope.

Cut.

There’s an instant release.

One end of the rope continues into the depths. The other doesn’t. That must lead to Madison. I follow the length of it until my fingers brush something foreign. Something featherlight.

Hair.

Madison’s ponytail.

I reach for it, letting my fingers tangle and twist in it. Then, I pull tight.

She doesn’t resist, and I realize I may already be too late. Wrapping my arm around her waist, I begin to kick. With everything I have, I fight for the surface.

Madison’s limp in my arms. I drag her with me.

I follow the path of bubbles from my expiring lungs—the only way I know what direction is up.

I don’t know when the water ends, and air begins. It’s all too dark. I think this is what infinity must feel like. An endless struggle.