God & Sinner

6. The Rising Tide

Even through my fingers, the flashing of the red still called to me. I couldn't escape it, and I knew that it was aware of what I'd done—the only witness. For a few seconds it would bathe me in its blood colored light, then leave me in the dark. That was its cycle; the repetition. It was hell, but I tried not to focus on that as I kept my head down, my eyes shut, my hands over my face. I didn't want to think about what had just happened, and I didn't want to consider what it would mean. I was a coward, I knew that, and the only thought that pervaded my mind was simple. What would happen now?

But I had to face the villainous red, and I inhaled sharply as I sat upright, blubbering softly in my seat while I stared out of the windshield at the traffic light. It continued to blink its crimson accusation at me, and I wept bitter tears as I looked anywhere but the road beside me. If I did, I would see what the light saw, and I didn't want that. It had warned me, told me to stop, to look, but I had not listened. No, I had been in a hurry, my mind full of fog, and I had paid the ultimate price for it. Not exactly true. The paying of the price would come when someone other than the red found out what I had done.

It was a sick kind of justice, in a way, that the thing I wanted most in this moment was James. He was my rock, and I wanted him to hold me, to wipe away my tears, to tell me that everything was going to be okay. And I knew he would do that, despite what had just happened between us. We'd fought, me and him, a terrible argument that ripped my guts out because I had said things that I didn't mean—things that came from a place within myself that I didn't even know existed. I hadn't been able to stand before him any longer, and I'd run, just like I was always so good at. But I'd ran too fast, and I hadn't paid attention, and, well.

Now I knew there were worse things.

The light continued to flash, serving as a beacon to mark for eternity the irreparable mistake that I'd made. It refused to let me forget, and I stared into it for what seemed like hours before I could look away again. It told me what I had to do. It didn't matter what happened now because it was my responsibility, and it beckoned me out of the car with its guilty stare. My hands were shaking, and I was hardly aware as I moved to open my door. I would've given anything to remain in the car, but I was compelled to get out as another pathetic sob found its way from my mouth.

There were marks on the asphalt from where I'd hit the brakes, and from when I'd spun out. My car sat off to the side now, the headlights casting dead shadows into the dense thicket of woods. I focused on the marks as I forced myself to move, just one step, but it was one step further than I'd been. I was so afraid, and I tried to be brave despite of it, but I'd only begun to shake harder, and, if it were possible, I could've sworn that there were more tears than before too. Another step. Little by little I made my way closer to that which scared me, and the red rendered its judgment.

Any moment I expected someone to come by, to see that which I had yet to set my eyes upon, but the light was my only company. It'd been miles since another car had even graced my sight, and I knew all too well that I would be left alone here. Well, not completely alone. I could hear a faint buzzing every time the light flashed now that I was closer, and I looked up at it as I stopped. No more, I couldn't go on any further, and I turned back as if I'd be able to lie to myself, as if the red would be forgiving and allow me to go back to my car. It wasn't too late for me to run away from this too.

But I looked anyway. The sight made me sick, and I fell to my knees and retched, over and over. As much as I wished I'd just resisted, I knew I would never get the image out of my head for the rest of my pathetic life. Once my stomach had settled, I felt like I might be able to stand again, so I did, and knowing I had nothing left to throw back up, I glanced once more. It still made me feel sick, but I didn't turn away this time as I tried to focus through my tears. It was only right, after all, the least I could do was acknowledge what I'd done. It was fitting that I beheld the body.