Chapter 39: I've Totally Lost It

For a moment, I couldn’t move. My whole body felt locked, frozen down to the marrow of my bones. The silence after his words was unbearable—it pressed against my ears like the air had been sucked out of the hallway. Stephen still stood there, the glow from his phone screen reflecting faintly on his face. That face I used to trust. That face that now looked like the devil himself holding my destruction in the palm of his hand.

My thoughts raced, overlapping, crashing into one another. If he sent that video to anyone, if even one person saw it—my father, Nina, the press—it would all be over. Everything. My family, Kevin, my sanity. I could already feel the panic crawling up my throat. I needed to do something. I needed to fix it before he did something stupid.

“Stephen, please,” I managed to whisper, my voice shaking so much I barely recognized it. “Please don’t show anyone that. You don’t understand what you’re doing.”

He smirked like he was enjoying every second of watching me unravel. “Don’t I?” he said, his tone sharp, almost casual. “You should’ve thought about that before you let him touch you.”

Tears burned the back of my eyes. I wanted to scream, to throw something, to make him stop talking. “You don’t know anything about me or him, Stephen! You think you do, but you don’t!”

“Then enlighten me!” he snapped, stepping closer. “Tell me what I don’t know. Tell me why I shouldn’t ruin you right now!”

Something inside me cracked. I could feel it—the trembling in my fingers, the weight in my chest, the dizziness from too much fear and too much anger colliding at once. I just wanted him to stop shouting. I just wanted to breathe.

“Stephen, please, just—stop!” I cried out, my voice breaking, but he didn’t stop.

He was still talking, his voice rising, his words sharp and cruel, and I felt my hand shove at his chest before I even realized what I was doing. It wasn’t hard. It wasn’t meant to hurt him. It was just a reflex—something to make him move back, to give me space.

But then it happened too fast.

His heel caught the edge of the top stair. His body jerked backward, his arms flailing for balance. For a split second, our eyes met—his wide with shock, mine frozen in disbelief—and then he was gone. The sound of his body hitting the stairs echoed through the hall, each thud louder than the last, until it stopped.

Silence.

I couldn’t breathe. My heart was slamming so violently I thought I’d pass out. My hands were shaking uncontrollably. I stumbled forward until I reached the top of the staircase and looked down.

Stephen’s body lay crumpled at the bottom of the stairs, motionless. His phone had skidded across the floor, the screen flickering before going black.

A strangled sound left my throat—half gasp, half sob. I covered my mouth with both hands to keep from screaming. The world around me felt muted, distant. My legs felt weak, my head spun, and all I could hear was my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.

“Oh God…” I whispered, my voice barely audible. My breath came out in broken bursts. “Oh God, what did I just—”

I couldn’t finish the thought. I didn’t want to.

The silence stretched on, heavy and endless. I stood there, gripping the railing so tightly my knuckles turned white, staring down at Stephen’s still body. Every nerve in my body screamed to run, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t move.

“Abby, look at me!”

His voice cut through the haze like a blade. It was sharp, low, real. Too real.

My eyes snapped open, and the staircase—the body, the silence, the guilt—was gone. I was still standing in the same spot, and Stephen was right in front of me. Alive. Breathing. Whole. The world tilted, and for a second I thought I might collapse from the sheer force of relief and horror tangling together inside me.

He was still talking, his voice tight with irritation, but all I could do was stare at him, my mind spinning. My throat felt raw, like I’d just screamed. I hadn’t, though. I’d only thought it—no, felt it—somewhere deep in my mind. That terrible image of his body lying lifeless at the bottom of the stairs had been so vivid, so real, that I could still hear the echo of it inside me.

God… what’s wrong with me?

My lips trembled as I tried to form words that wouldn’t come. I wanted to breathe, to say something, anything—but my chest wouldn’t move right. I could still see it. Him falling. His eyes wide. That sound—God, that sound—rolling down the stairs like thunder.

But it hadn’t happened. None of it had.

“Abby!” he said again, snapping his fingers slightly as if I were drifting somewhere too far away.

I blinked hard, once, twice, forcing the blur from my vision. His face swam back into focus, and for a split second I wanted to cry—not out of sadness or fear, but because I wasn’t sure what was real anymore. I’d just imagined killing him. I’d wanted him gone that badly, even for a second.

That realization made my stomach twist.

I stepped back, needing distance, air, space. My palms felt clammy, my skin cold. Everything around me seemed too bright and too loud—the ticking of a nearby clock, the faint hum of the air conditioning, even the way my heartbeat pounded against my ribs like a warning.

“Abby, what’s wrong with you?” Stephen asked, his tone sharp but uncertain now.

I shook my head, but the motion didn’t mean anything. I didn’t even know what I was denying.

Nothing about me felt grounded anymore. My thoughts tangled and frayed—Kevin, the video, the sex, the secret, the risk. It was too much. Everything was caving in, and my body couldn’t keep up with my mind’s chaos.

“I—just need a minute,” I muttered, barely recognizing my own voice. It sounded thin, empty.

But inside, everything screamed.

I wanted to claw my way out of my own head. To stop seeing flashes of that fall that never happened. To stop wondering what kind of person I was to even imagine it.

The weight of it all pressed down so hard I could almost hear it. And standing there in front of Stephen, watching his mouth move and not hearing a single word that came out, I realized something terrifying.

Maybe I was losing myself for real this time.