No Time Like the Present
Martin Hooijmans | Lars de Ruyter
Her wide, bloodshot eyes looked up at him, full of fear, asking for mercy. All he felt was power. His boot, crushing a set of tender fingers, was all that kept her from plummeting into the depths.
The faint sound of pleads could be heard behind him, police inspectors attempting to get through. They had no idea.
“You don’t have to do this,” the woman said, voice filled with pain and anxiety. “You can still go back.”
“Back?” he said. A bitter smile crawled into his lips. Going back meant reliving the loss of everything once more. Going back meant giving this woman power again, placing others at the whim of her cruelty. Going back only meant pain.
There was no time like the present.
He lifted his boot. Her scream was the sweetest sound he had heard in ages. It set the police running for him.
There was only one way for him to go.
Forward.
And he stepped over the edge.
