"A damsel in distress is every man's dream." She smiled and waved at him just as he shut the door.
The moment it closed, the smile faded. Livia lay back against the pillows, staring up at the painted ceiling, and tried to breathe. Her head ached. Every time she blinked, pieces of the night returned. Hands in her hair. Jane's eyes sliding away. The cold edge beneath her feet. The terrible drop. The scream that had not belonged to her alone.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
No. Not now.
Thinking of the fall led to thinking of the dead girl, and thinking of the dead girl led to a guilt she did not know what to do with. Had she pulled her down? Yes. No. She had been trying to live. Was a woman meant to politely die alone because her murderers deserved balance?
