"See how I made this loop? Now you twist it like this around the wire, and pull it tight. Make sure you pull on this strand, not that one."
Justin's strong hands gently weave the string around the hook and secure it, spearing a worm on the end and handing me the pole. I take it in my tiny hands and amateurly toss it over the side of the bridge, settling at the edge with my bare, calloused feet dangling down freely. A slight breeze tickles my toes as the water rushes far below.
Justin sits beside me and opens the old metal tool box that we lovingly refer to as our "treasure chest." Inside are several small trinkets that are worth much more to me than they would to anyone else: an old crayon drawing, a necklace, a photograph of us, a wooden carving of two figures hugging, and a small metallic chunk of rock that I claimed was real gold. Justin told me it was fool's gold and not worth anything, but I still don't believe him. It's real.
We softly look at the objects until a sudden tug on my line draws our attention. Justin agrees to take my line after I fail to bring the fish out of the water.
My blood is pounding in my ears as he struggles with the line.
My eyes zone in on what lies at the other end.
I scream, "Justin, stop!"
The line, caught on a rock in a shallow part of the river, snaps in half. Justin stumbles backwards, his expression locked in a horrific mask of terror that to this day is still etched in my mind permanently. He can't gain his footing and within moments disappears over the opposite edge, falling twenty feet into the dark water.
I screamed his name until my throat was raw. I cried until I couldn't breathe, my chest heaving with the exertion of my sobs. My eight-year-old hands shook as I stood, gasping, slowly gathering my things.
For a while I clutched the tool box to my chest and watched the river.
Justin did not come back up.
YOU ARE READING
Road to Rebellion
Mystery / ThrillerI remember my mother once tried explaining to me how the world wanted to be beautiful - women all wanted flawless skin and perfect hair. That was how they could tell if they were pretty enough. As if it was who they were instead of just a costume th...
