Page 1 of Sacrifice
One
I betthe water’s fucking freezing.
Eve stared down into the rushing, black flow of the Thames and the chill of winter crept beneath her coat. This had been a bad idea.
Her vision swam in and out of focus from the height and the booze and her hand that gripped the iron balustrade stung from the cold. She’d had way too much wine to be standing on the wrong side of the railings on Hammersmith Bridge. Climbing over had been a big mistake.
Somehow, the winsome heroines of fiction always made these desperate bids for attention seem so much more romantic. So much more satisfying.
Eve flopped dejectedly and wobbled on her perch. She could see the problem, of course.
Someone needs to give a shit, Eve. Not much point in being dramatic if no one’s going to notice.
She craned her neck to look in either direction along the bridge. It was deserted. It was also fucking freezing.
Eve sighed.
Another day on the never-ending treadmill of career disappointment had culminated in possibly the lamestChristmas party she’d ever had the misfortune to attend. Condemned to the ‘Gift Shop Table’, she’d watched as all the truly interesting people had formed an impenetrable clique on the other side of the room.
While they discussed upcoming exhibits and the museum’s contribution to national culture, Eve had fought off the unwelcome advances of Gilbert, the gift shop manager, and parried the dreary self-obsessed wittering of Sienna, her fellow gift shop assistant.
At least there had been alcohol.
Possibly a bit too much alcohol.
The beginnings of a headache thudded behind Eve’s eyes and she realized miserably that she’d left her migraine meds at home. Another reason to just chuck herself in. Eve sighed and took a moment to reassess.
Two minutes ago, climbing over the railing to stand on the edge of oblivion had felt like the perfect expression of her frustration. Now… Now it was clearly madness. She should just go home and hope her parents hadn’t noticed how late she was.
Still living with my parents. Christ, I’m pathetic.
She slumped again and threw back her head, disgusted with herself. How many of her twenty-six-year-old friends still lived with their parents? None. They were either married or shacked up or off travelling,actuallyhaving a life.
She took a deep breath and released her grip on the freezing iron to make a grab for the top of the railing. The top railing, however, was much higher from this side and out of reach.
She swiveled to get a better angle. The ledge wasn’t quite wide enough to take her whole foot and her heels dipped alarmingly over the edge. Eve’s heart jolted and she snatched for the railing. The surface was slick, and her fingers slithered off into nothingness. Then she was too far over the edge to bring hercenter of gravity back and, before she knew what was happening, she was tipping backwards with nothing behind her but air.
Holy shit!
Eve flapped her arms like an insane, panicking bird, desperate to pull itself forward, but the laws of physics had taken charge.
“No!”
This had not been the plan! There was never going to be any actual jumping. Someone was supposed to have come to her rescue, to talk her out of it. It has just been for the thrill, to try, just for a moment, to feel alive. Now she was going to die!
“Fuck!”
Rushing air tore Eve’s coat up over her head, and she plunged, flailing and blinded, toward the river, knowing that at any second, the icy water would hit. She clamped her mouth shut and screwed up her eyes. Her heart pounded in her ears, and when the surface came, it was like hitting hard ground. She’d barely registered the pain before icy water swamped her.
Her body flexed with shock. She wanted to gasp and scream but knew better than that, knew she had to keep her mouth tightly shut.
The current pulled her down and twisted her clothes into a suffocating tangle. All around was black.
Oh my god, where’s the surface?
She kicked against the dark and scrambled to be free. Arms bound by the knot of clothing, she fought against the freezing, engulfing water, not knowing which way was up or what to aim for. Her lungs burned, desperate for air.
Unseen rocks on the bottom slashed at her body and licks of weed wrapped around her legs. Panic took hold. She flailed against her coat and managed to free an arm to tear it away.
