Keep My Secrets by Elena Wilkes (management books to read .txt) 📕

and miles of it, and somewhere way below her is the sound of running water.

Nothing moves. Only the mound of metal on the bonnet flaps a little in the breeze. But then it groans. Everything freezes: the sky, her spine, time.

There’s a creaking, shifting sound and her eyes flicker warily.

The mound starts to shift and it dawns on her that it isn’t metal.

It’s Alex.

She doesn’t know if she says his name out loud or if it’s in her head.

‘Frankie?’ His voice out there is only just discernible. He coughs a little and tries again. ‘Frankie?’

‘I’m here,’ she says as loudly as she dares. The juddering in her arms and legs won’t stop. ‘I’m here. I’m okay.’

She has no idea if this is true. She gives her toes the instruction to move – they oblige. And then her fingers, her hands—

There’s a sudden jolt and a slither. She grits her teeth and closes her eyes.

This is it. This is it. This is where it’s all over.

If she stays completely still, if she doesn’t move even an inch… She lets herself breathe and allows herself a tiny glimpse towards him.

No, Alex! No! Don’t do that!

Her heart begins to stutter with shock – Stop! Stop!

The car slithers a little, its nose dipping into mid-air. Every movement threatens the delicate balance.

Her heart in in her throat as his weight rocks the car: juddering and shaking the frame from side to side as he tries to crawl his way back. One bloodied hand is extended, the fingernails broken and grimed with red. There’s a hissing sound coming from the caved-in hole that was once his mouth.

She suddenly realises what he’s saying.

‘Pleeaasssse,’ he hisses. ‘Pleeaasssse.’

The hand inches towards her. She could grab it. She could.

Gingerly, oh so carefully, she forces her elbow to lift and straighten. She will have to reach forward soon. She will have to alter her weight to—

She can feel the slight shift beneath her. Her breath catches. If she moves suddenly…

‘Frankie,’ he says.

His wrist is there: so close. If she were able to bend, slowly, slowly, and breathe out…

The tips of her fingers extend through the shattered windscreen and touch skin. It’s cool, like marble. His cold palm slides under hers and she closes her hand and wills a grip of iron into it. Don’t let go. Just don’t let go—

‘Frankie—’

Her eyes come up to lock onto his.

He’s staring straight at her.

‘All you have to do is hold on,’ she says. ‘That’s all. I’ve got you, Alex, I’ve got you.’

His gaze locks onto hers. It’s pleading, she can see that. She can only imagine what’s down there in that drop – the rocks, the stones, the water; she can only imagine the fall, the moments of knowing, absolutely, what the end will be…

There’s a muffled moan behind her. She looks down at Vanessa. Her breathing is laboured now: hard and rasping. The moan comes again. It’s not Vanessa.

Something begins to dawn. She looks again at Alex. His eyes have gone from pleading to terrified.

The cries get a little louder. There’s a thump from the boot.

‘Chloe’s in the car.’

It’s not a question, it’s a realisation. Alex’s face begins to change.

‘She hit her head,’ he pants. His tongue slithers over bloodied lips. ‘She wasn’t supposed to… I was going to talk to her, persuade her…’

She can feel the ache in her fingers, the thrumming drive of pain in her shoulder socket.

‘You hurt my daughter. You hurt my child.’

‘I didn’t mean to, Frankie. I did it all for you. I’ve done everything for you. You have to believe that – I wanted to put right what I did. I wanted to give you back the thing you lost.’

She can feel the muscles in his hand loosening; he’s getting weaker. She tightens her own. There’s a bang and a grating sound somewhere beneath her feet as though metal is warping. A siren wail in the distance whines through the air. Behind her, she can hear her daughter sobbing quietly. She’s in the darkness all alone, too scared to cry out. Her heart begins to bleed with anguish.

‘Frankie.’

She looks up into Alex’s pain-filled eyes.

‘Let me go,’ he whispers.

‘No… I can’t…’ The crack and buckle of hinge and joint gets louder. ‘No, Alex, no—’

But he opens his hand: his fingers spanning wide. It’s more difficult for her to keep a hold.

‘Alex, please don’t do this.’

‘Save your daughter and save yourself,’ he whispers again. ‘I’m sorry, Frankie.’

The hand twists. His arm and face are there one second, and then suddenly they’re gone.

There’s a moment.

Dear Jesus. The wailing of the sirens gets louder. All around her, birds are beginning to gather on the bridge wires, their chatter filling the air, drowning out the sobs that rasp in her throat.

‘Chloe?’ she calls out, choking through her tears. There’s silence. ‘Chloe?’

Somewhere deep inside the boot, she can hear her crying urgently now.

She gathers herself. She has to be strong; she’s all Chloe’s got right now.

‘Chloe. This is Frankie… I’m the one who—’

The car starts to rock. There’s a squeal from the boot. She braces her feet either side of the footwell with a great shuddering intake of breath, ramming herself back in the seat, praying that her weight is enough. The rocking stops.

‘Chloe,’ she says steadily. ‘Can you hear me? I’m Frankie. I’m the one who—’ She is going to say ‘saved you’, but realises there are so many other things she’s done. She takes a big, deep, breath.

‘I’m telling you Chloe, that whatever happens, I’m right here with you.’

There’s no sound from the back.

‘Chloe?’

Does she imagine it, or is there a tiny shift?

‘Can you hear me?’

A tiny, tiny muffled voice comes from behind her. ‘Yes, I can hear you.’

‘Are you hurt?’ She closes her eyes. The horror of Alex’s face swims back at her. She immediately shuts it out.

‘Only my head: just a little bit.’

There’s a sickening creak and a sudden pitch forwards and Chloe starts to scream. The sky tilts alarmingly, wavering with a sudden view of tree-tops and rushing