Chapter 6 - The Edge of Sanity
My breath hitched in my throat. Every muscle in my body tensed, ready to spring forward, but I forced myself to remain rooted to the spot. One wrong move, one sudden gesture, and she would fall backward, taking my son with her into the abyss.
“Mom, please,” I said, dropping my voice to the gentle, soothing tone I used to use when I was a child trying to calm her rages. “I know you love Owen. I know you think you’re protecting him. But look at him. He’s cold. He’s scared. He needs his father. He needs you to be his grandmother, not this.”
“I’m the only one who can save him!” she screamed against the wind, her grip tightening on Owen. The scalpel in her hand trembled inches from his tiny face. “You were supposed to be mine, Ethan! Your father left, and I molded you into a perfect success. But then you found her. She changed you. She made you question me!”
“I’m still your son, Mom,” I lied, the words choking me. I took a slow, agonizingly small step forward. “I’m right here. Look at me. Don’t look at the edge. Just look at me.”
From behind the roof access door, Detective Vance and three armed police officers stepped out quietly, their weapons drawn but lowered. Vance caught my eye and gave a subtle shake of his head. They couldn't shoot. The risk to the baby was too high. It was entirely up to me.
“You’re lying,” Patricia whispered, her expression suddenly shifting from rage to deep, childlike sorrow. “You don’t love me. No one loves me. I’m completely alone.”
“You’re not alone,” I said, taking another step. I was now only six feet away from her. I could see the frantic rise and fall of Owen’s chest. “Give me Owen, and I will walk down there with you. We will face whatever comes next together. I promise you, Mom. Just let him go.”
She looked down at the newborn in her arms. For a single, beautiful second, a flicker of true maternal instinct seemed to cross her face. The tension in her arms slackened slightly. The scalpel lowered.
“Ethan…” she murmured, reaching her hand out toward me.
But before I could grab her, a loud gust of wind slammed the heavy metal roof door shut behind the police officers. The sharp, explosive bang shattered the fragile peace.
Patricia snapped back into paranoia. She shrieked, stepping backward onto the ledge. Her foot slipped entirely off the concrete.
As she began to fall backward into the open air, her survival instinct kicked in. She let go of Owen to reach for the ledge.
I didn't think. I lunged forward, throwing my body across the concrete, abandoning all regard for my own safety. I launched myself over the edge of the roof, my arms outstretched.
My fingers caught the fabric of Owen’s receiving blanket just as he cleared the ledge.
With my other hand, I desperately grabbed the metal base of a rooftop lightning rod, my shoulder dislocating with a sickening pop as the combined weight of gravity pulled at me. I screamed in agony, but I refused to let go. I pinned Owen against my chest with my injured arm, clamping down with everything I had left.
Below me, a horrifying scream echoed through the air, followed by a sickening, distant thud.
Patricia had fallen.
Hands grabbed my jacket, pulling me back over the ledge. Detective Vance and the officers dragged me onto the safe, solid concrete of the roof.
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I rolled onto my back, gasping for air, tears streaming down my face. Owen was in my arms, crying loudly, covered in dust but completely, miraculously uninjured.
I pulled him close, kissing his tiny forehead over and over again, ignoring the blinding pain in my shoulder. “I’ve got you, Owen. I’ve got you. You’re safe. Daddy’s here.”
