Chapter 22

Clara

Someone was screaming.

High-pitched, frantic. Unending. Someone was screaming like they were being torn apart alive. Chased by the hounds of hell. Plummeting to their doom. Screaming like the world was ending.

A woman?

Was a woman screaming?

For a moment, my mother’s face swam before my eyes—had she screamed as the car tumbled off the bridge? Had her final moment been one of terror? Had she