She curses under her breath, furiously scrubbing the light patches of red that decorate her palms.
Adara laughs humorously.
Blood on her hands.
She has blood on her hands.
She has blood on her shoes.
Suddenly she's not laughing anymore.
The girl leans over, heaving the contents of her stomach onto the blood-stained banks of Finton Creek.
Blood. Blood. Blood.
Adara chokes a strangled cry for help.
She hadn't meant to do it.
She hadn't meant to murder Maeve Anderson.
Trembling fingers tap the cracked screen of her phone, hovering for a second, above the glowing messenger icon, before she drops the device, crushing it underfoot.
Move Ara, she tells herself, dragging herself away from the river's edge and the pale lifeless body that skirts it, with numb legs, and a dizzy mind.
She can see her.
She can see Maeve reaching towards her pleadingly.
Helplessly.
Blood. Blood. Blood.
She hadn't meant to do it.
How could she have known the girl would fall back against the boulder?
How could she have known Maeve Anderson would never get up again?
Adara sobs, frantically wiping the palms of her hands against her blood-stained jeans.
Blood. Blood. Blood.
So much blood.
Blood in her hair, and on her face.
God, there's too much blood.
YOU ARE READING
Down By The River
Mystery / Thriller... They say Finton Creek hides secrets in its murky waters. Blood washes away, but the taste never leaves. ...
