Julian turned. His eyes were flat, dead, and filled with absolute disgust. He raised his hands and shoved her hard in the chest.
Her feet slipped on the muddy bank. Gravity seized her. She plummeted backward into the freezing river.
The ice-cold water swallowed her whole. It rushed up her nose and down her throat, choking off her scream. She thrashed her arms, her fingers clawing at the empty, freezing current. Her chest convulsed. The lack of oxygen made her vision spotty.
Just as her body began to go limp, a heavy, muscular arm wrapped around her waist like a steel band.
The grip was bruising. It yanked her upward with terrifying force.
She broke the surface. The blinding spring sunlight stabbed at her closed eyelids.
Delois's eyes snapped open. She gasped, sucking in massive amounts of air. Her throat felt raw, completely shredded.
She was lying flat on her back in the muddy grass of the riverbank. Her clothes clung to her skin like a freezing second layer. Her entire body shook with violent, uncontrollable tremors. Her teeth chattered so hard her jaw ached.
Bart Hawkins was kneeling beside her. He was completely soaked. Drops of water fell from his messy, dark hair and splattered directly onto her pale face.
His jaw was clenched tight. A deep crease formed between his dark eyebrows. His eyes held a mixture of deep annoyance and a tight, hidden tension.
He didn't offer a comforting word. Instead, he raised his large, calloused hand and slapped her cheek.
It wasn't a gentle tap. It was a sharp, stinging strike meant to shock her nervous system.
The skin on her cheek burned instantly. The sharp sting yanked her scattered consciousness back into her skull.
She blinked, her vision clearing. She stared up at the familiar face. The faint, jagged scar near his eyebrow. The sharp line of his jaw. It was Bart. The boy she had fought with since childhood. Her family's sworn enemy.
Bart saw her pupils focus. The rigid tension in his broad shoulders instantly collapsed. He let out a long, harsh breath.
He pushed himself up to his feet. He shook his wet leather jacket, sending cold drops flying. He looked down at her, his expression twisting into a sneer.
"Jumping into a freezing river over a city boy volunteer," Bart said, his voice a low, mocking rumble. "Your brain is completely waterlogged, Delois."
Delois stared at him. Her mind was a blank, spinning void. She didn't remember jumping. She didn't remember the river.
She pressed her palms into the cold mud, trying to push herself up. The moment she shifted, a blinding, splitting pain exploded in the back of her head.
She gasped, her hand flying to the source of the agony. Her trembling fingers brushed against a massive, throbbing lump. They came away sticky.
Bart's eyes tracked the movement. He saw the dark red blood coating her pale fingers. The sneer vanished from his face. He cursed under his breath, a harsh, ugly sound.
Before he could move, the sound of heavy boots and panicked voices rushed toward them. A crowd of townspeople was running down the grassy slope.
Her cousin, Ann Spence, was leading the pack. Ann's face was twisted in an exaggerated mask of sheer panic.
Ann shoved her way to the front. She dropped to her knees beside Delois, letting out a high-pitched, theatrical shriek.
Ann snapped her head up and pointed a shaking finger directly at Bart.
"You pushed her!" Ann screamed, making sure every person in the crowd heard her. "I saw you! You pushed Delois into the river!"
Bart let out a dark, humorless chuckle. He shoved his wet hands deep into his jacket pockets. He didn't even blink at the accusation. He just stood there, refusing to defend himself to the gathering mob.
Delois looked at Ann's face. A massive gap in her memory made her stomach drop. She opened her mouth, her voice a raspy whisper.
"Is it... is it the Spring Fair today?" Delois asked.
Ann looked at her with wide, fake-pitying eyes.
"Delois," Ann said loudly. "The Spring Fair was six months ago."
The words hit Delois like a physical blow to the chest. Her breath stopped. Her entire body went completely rigid in the mud. Six months. She had lost six solid months of her life.
The crowd erupted into loud, cruel whispers. They pointed at her wet clothes, laughing about how she tried to kill herself because Julian rejected her.
The humiliation burned hotter than the physical pain. The world tilted violently. The faces of the crowd blurred into a sickening spin, and the darkness rushed back in to claim her.