I’m at the bottom of the steps.
My head hurts. I think I bumped it on something way down. Maybe a step or two. My shoulder aches also. I haven’t even tried to move from the ground and two things already hurt me. I’m scared to see what else will hurt when I try to get up. If I get up. Victoria fell down these same steps a year ago and never got up.
“Sylvia!” It’s Adam’s voice. “Sylvia, are you all right?”
He’s asking me, not Victoria, even though she took the same spill I did down the steps. I muster up all my strength and sit up. The world spins around me for a moment, but then it goes still again. My head throbs.
“Sylvia.” Adam is kneeling beside me, his green eyes wide. “Are you okay? Say something.”
“Something,” I say.
Adam tilts his head to look at something behind me. He clasps his hand over his mouth. His complexion turns green. “Jesus Christ.”
I follow his gaze to where Victoria is lying on the ground, a few feet away from her wheelchair. Nobody’s neck should be bent at that angle. Her eyes are slightly open, staring at nothing.
“I… I think she’s dead,” I say.
That’s an understatement. She’s obviously dead. She’s the most dead person I’ve ever seen in my entire life.
“Oh, Jesus.” Adam buries his face in his hands. “Victoria…”
“Adam.” I wince at a sharp jab of pain at the back of my neck. It occurs to me that after a bad accident, you’re not supposed to move because of a possible neck injury. Oh well, too late for that. “She was going to kill you.”
He crawls on the floor until he’s next to her. He leans over her body, and his eyes fill with tears. “I’m so sorry, Victoria,” he whispers.
He wraps his arms around her limp body and my own eyes fill with tears. Yes, Victoria was not a good person. She was insanely jealous. She was violent. She was probably a murderess. But he loved her anyway.
“We’ve got to call the police,” I say gently.
Adam sits up slowly, although he still has Victoria’s limp hand clasped in his. “You can’t tell them what she tried to do.”
“Adam…”
“No, Sylvia. I don’t want her to be remembered that way.”
I glance over at the gun, which came out of Victoria’s hand during the fall and is lying on the floor a few feet away from us. That gun came so close to ending both our lives. “How are we going to explain that?”
“I’ll hide it away somewhere. Nobody needs to know.” He cups his hand over Victoria’s white cheek. “Please, Sylvia.”
As much as I hate the idea of lying to the police, I see his point. It won’t help anyone to know that Victoria threatened us both at gunpoint. And this is very important to him.
“Okay,” I say. “I won’t tell anyone.”
