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“It was an accident.”

A puzzled look crosses Ashley’s face. Like she didn’t mean to say it. Like it’s not her speaking but some other person forcing the words out. A ventriloquist. A demon. But now that she’s talking—and now that Andy has set Henry back on the outcropping’s solid ground—she keeps going, even though I don’t want to hear any of it.

“I need you to believe me,” she says, looking at me but addressing all of us. “I never would have hurt Billy on purpose. It just happened, and I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

The words come faster now, riding the rush of confession.

How she went to a party with her friend Tara, driving them there in her mother’s car despite not yet having a driver’s license.

How Tara had hooked up with some guy named Steve Ebberts and Ashley got angry and left without her.

How she was buzzed, not drunk, because a drunk person wouldn’t have had the foresight to avoid the cops by taking only backroads home.

How one of those roads was the one that cut through the forest.

How she was speeding down it, worried about getting caught by her parents, paying more attention to the dashboard clock than the road itself.

How maybe she was drunk and that’s the reason she didn’t see a deer in the middle of the road and careened right into it.

How afterward she pounded the brakes and screeched to a stop and looked in the rearview mirror, the road behind her glowing crimson from the car’s taillights.

How she unhooked her seat belt. Slowly. And got out of the car. Slowly. And crept around it. Slowly. And saw that it wasn’t a deer she’d hit.

“It was Billy,” she says, her voice melting into a sob.

The more Ashley talks, the worse the story gets. Every word brings a spike of pain to my chest. Like nails being hammered into my heart.

She tells us about seeing Billy in some brush on the side of the road and knowing immediately he was dead. She tells us about screaming, then crying, then crawling to his side and cradling him and telling him she was sorry, so deeply sorry.

“I stayed like that for an hour,” Ashley says, crying now, the tears flowing unabated. “The whole time, I kept waiting for another car to come by and stop and see what I’d done. I wished for it. I prayed for it. But no one did. It was just me and Billy.”

She continues. More waiting. Fetching a blanket from the trunk. Wrapping him in it. Even more waiting. Thinking through her options, all of which were bad.

“I was fifteen, drunk, driving without a license, and I had just killed someone,” she says, her bitter tone making it clear she hates herself for every single one of these sins. “I knew my life would be over. And Billy’s already was. And while I couldn’t save him, I knew there was a chance I could still save myself.”

Ashley’s story ends with her sobered up and carrying Billy to the falls. It wasn’t easy, but she was strong and Billy’s body seemed so light. Dawn was spreading over the forest by the time she got to the falls, where she weighed the blanket down with some rocks and pushed Billy into the water from the spot where all of us currently stand.

“Then I went home and told my parents that I borrowed the car and hit a deer,” Ashley says. “They yelled at me and grounded me, and I didn’t care because I knew the police would find Billy and then come and arrest me. It was just a matter of time before everyone knew what I’d done and how awful a person I was. But Billy was never found and the police never came. And that was the worst part. Knowing I was getting away with killing that sweet, innocent boy. Because getting caught is easy. It’s living alone with your guilt that’s hard. That’s worse than any prison. You have no idea how many times I almost confessed. How much I just wanted to rid myself of the guilt. But then Henry came along, and I knew I had to live with it. For his sake.”

Andy lets go of Henry completely now, the boy all but forgotten. Rather than run to his mother, Henry remains fixed in place, eyes aimed toward his shoes. Andy leaves his side and approaches Ashley as if he intends to hit her—or worse. Ashley readies herself for whatever’s to come, closing her eyes and steeling her body.

“Do whatever you want to me,” she says. “But please don’t hurt my son. He’s the only good thing I’ve ever done.”

Andy places a hand on her shoulder, the touch startling her into a gasp.

“Thank you,” he says.

Then he collapses onto the ground and begins to weep.

I go to his side, put my arms around his shoulders, and weep with him, both of us crying over what we have lost while simultaneously shedding ourselves of the heavy load we’ve been carrying a long, long time.

“I’m sorry,” Ashley says again. “I’ve caused you all so much pain.”

Unlike Andy, I’m not able to acknowledge her, let alone thank her. Because scores of people have been hurt by her actions. All of Hemlock Circle, starting with Billy and ending with her son.

Henry finally lifts his head, and I immediately see that no matter how much Ashley’s confession has gutted me, it’s twice as terrible for him. He’s got a dazed look in his eyes. Like he’s just been punched. I’d think he was in shock if not for the sorrow etched into the rest of his features.

Seeing it bruises my soul.

No child, I think, should have to endure what’s happening to him right now.

“Henry,” Ashley whispers, her arms outstretched.

Henry doesn’t respond.

Ashley draws closer. “Baby, please.”

Henry shakes his head, takes a backward step, loses his balance.

I experience a moment in which everything slows down, gets louder, snaps into focus. The clatter of stones giving way beneath Henry’s feet. The bobble of his arms as he tries to stay upright. The sound Ashley begins to make next to me. Part gasp, part scream. The way my heart, already thrumming, starts to thunder in my chest. Then my body, frozen along with everything else, springs into action. Muscles flex. Limbs stretch. I find myself sprinting.

Across the outcropping.

Toward Henry.

Reaching out to him as he reaches back.

But it’s too late.

He flounders some more before slipping, tilting away from me, falling backward over the edge and disappearing from view.

I follow Henry over the edge, ignoring any sense of hesitation, of second thoughts, of self-preservation. All I’m aware of as I dive forward are my feet leaving land and Ashley screaming behind me and a faint splash below, all but drowned out by the roar of the falls.

Henry hitting the water.

Then everything fades to nothing as I plummet into the darkness after him.