Chapter 5: The Truth Under the Bridge

The next morning.

The sun rose, pale and cold. The city woke up, oblivious to the tragedy under the bridge.

The phone vibrated. My son scrambled out of my arms, fumbling in his pocket.

His fingers were stiff, but he managed to answer. Savannah’s voice crackled through the speaker.

On the other end, Savannah’s voice was furious.

She was shouting, barely coherent. “Ethan Carter, where the hell are you?!”

“This morning, the loan sharks trashed the house!”

Glass shattered in the background. She was panicking, but only about herself.

My son held the phone away, his face tense. “Mom, keep your voice down. Dad just fell asleep.”

He tried to sound grown-up, but his voice wobbled. “He needs to rest.”

“Ugh! How does he even have the nerve to sleep?!”

She sounded disgusted. “Put that loser on!”

“He racks up all this debt and then shoves his wife out to deal with it!”

She kept ranting, blaming everyone but herself.

“Bad Mom!”

Suddenly, my son lost control, shouting into the phone. “You did all these awful things. Now Dad’s ignoring you, and I don’t want you either! You owe money—it’s your fault!”

He screamed the words, voice raw with pain and anger.

He slammed the phone down, his hands shaking so badly he could barely hold it.

The phone clattered to the ground, the screen spiderwebbing with cracks.

“Bad Mom, I won’t let you bully Dad!”

He wiped his nose, glaring at the phone as if it could hurt her back.

“Right, I… I have to make money to help Dad get better!”

He pushed himself to his feet, swaying. His legs were weak, but his will was strong.

He tried to get up and go make money, but his body swayed, clearly exhausted after everything that had happened.

He stumbled, catching himself on the bridge wall. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

From a distance came lively music. He peered out from the bridge.

The plaza was bustling, music blaring from loudspeakers. Balloons bobbed in the breeze.

Across the square, a new mall was hosting a kissing contest. The host announced, “The winning couple will receive a $10,000 prize!”

A cheer went up. People crowded around the stage, eager for the spectacle.

The crowd erupted in cheers.

Someone waved a sign, others snapped photos. The energy was electric.

My son was about to look away, but when he glanced at the stage, his eyes widened in shock.

He squinted, not believing what he saw. But there was no mistake.

Onstage, Savannah, dressed in a sequined miniskirt, was passionately kissing Tyler. Tyler’s hand slid brazenly into her neckline.

The crowd whooped and whistled. Savannah laughed, tossing her hair, loving every second.

After a series of obscene moves, the two of them won the contest.

The host grinned, handing them a giant check. Cameras flashed, capturing their moment of triumph.

The host handed the microphone to Savannah. “Winning couple, tell us how you plan to spend the prize money!”

She batted her eyelashes, playing to the crowd. “He’s such a kind, loving man. I want to buy his puppy—my little boy—a designer doghouse.”

Tyler wrapped an arm around her waist, gazing at her tenderly. “Thank you, darling! I swear, I’ll only ever love you!”

He kissed her cheek, grinning for the cameras. The audience ate it up.

“Liar!”

My son grabbed a rock and hurled it at the stage. Tyler dodged, but it grazed his forehead, leaving a bloody mark.

The crowd gasped. Tyler clapped a hand to his head, cursing.

“Who did that?!”

Savannah scanned the crowd. When she spotted my son, her face twisted with rage. “You little brat, so it’s you!”

She pointed, face red with fury. “I was just looking for you! How dare you show your face!”

My son turned and ran. But she leapt off the stage, caught up in a few strides, and grabbed him by the collar.

She dragged him back, nails digging into his skin. Mason struggled, but she was too strong.

“Where’s that bastard? Where’s he hiding?”

Her voice was a snarl. “He taught you to hit people, but he doesn’t have the guts to show up himself?!”

“Dad’s asleep!”

My son lifted his chin stubbornly. “Even if he weren’t, I wouldn’t let you bother him!”

He glared at her, eyes full of defiance. Savannah’s grip tightened.

Savannah, enraged, slapped him. “I’m your mother! You dare talk back?!”

The slap echoed across the square. Mason’s head snapped to the side, but he didn’t cry.

“You’re not!”

He glared at her, chest heaving. “You’re a dog! You’re that bad man’s dog!”

The words hit her like a slap. Her face twisted with rage.

Her face twisted in fury.

She raised her hand, but Mason didn’t flinch. He just stared her down.

“Fine, you want to curse?!”

She snapped the metal heel off her pump and jabbed it at his body. “Curse me, will you?! Curse me?!”

Blood welled up all over his arms and back.

The crowd gasped. Mason gritted his teeth, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a scream.

My heart shattered. I wanted to shield him, but he darted under her arm and bolted toward the bridge. Savannah paused, then cursed and gave chase.

He ducked and weaved, slipping through the crowd like a shadow. Savannah’s heels clattered on the pavement as she chased him.

At the corner, she suddenly stopped dead.

She’d seen me, sitting under the bridge.

Her eyes went wide. She took a shaky step back, then steeled herself and marched over.

“Coward, hiding here, are you?”

She spat, striding over. “Where’s the money?”

She loomed over me, fists clenched. “I’m warning you, we still owe fifty grand to the loan sharks. If you’re short by a single cent, you’ll regret it!”

“Don’t touch Dad!”

My son suddenly spread his arms, blocking me. “Dad’s done enough for this family. Mom, let him rest!”

He stood tall, defiant. Savannah sneered, unimpressed.

She yanked him aside, her nails digging into his scalp. Mason kicked and bit, refusing to give up.

“You’re both worthless! I should never have had you!”

Her words were ice cold. Mason’s eyes filled with tears, but he didn’t back down.

My son, small and weak, couldn’t stop her. He grabbed her hand, kicking and biting frantically.

He fought with everything he had, desperate to protect me.

His eyes turned bloodshot, breath coming in ragged gasps. Drool dripped from his mouth.

He looked wild, almost feral. The crowd started to murmur, uneasy.

He looked like he’d snapped—rabies setting in.

His movements grew jerky, uncontrolled. People stepped back, unsure what to do.

The commotion drew the attention of people out for morning exercise.

Joggers slowed, curious. Someone pulled out a phone, recording.

Savannah fell to the ground.

She yanked open her collar, revealing a fresh bite mark on her porcelain-white collarbone.

She pointed to the wound, voice trembling with outrage. “Look! This is from my son!”

“His dad ran off after racking up debts!”

She spun her story, painting herself as the victim. The crowd’s sympathy shifted.

“I worked myself to the bone raising him, and now he’s pushing me to the brink!”

She wiped away fake tears, looking to the crowd for support.

I suddenly felt the whole thing was absurd.

The world had turned upside down. The truth was twisted, lost in the noise.

That bite mark—she’d gotten it during a passionate night with Tyler days ago.

The irony was sickening. No one questioned her story.

The crowd’s anger rose quickly.

Murmurs turned to shouts. People shook their heads, disgusted.

“What a shame! If this kid isn’t disciplined, he’ll be a menace when he grows up!”

A gray-haired woman clucked her tongue. “Kids these days—no respect.”

Seven or eight hands reached out at once.

They grabbed Mason, pinning him to the ground. He struggled, but there were too many.

My son was pinned to the damp, filthy concrete.

He kicked and screamed, but the hands held firm. The concrete scraped his skin raw.

A bald man whipped off his belt, twisting my son’s arms behind his back.

He raised the belt, ready to strike. Mason whimpered, bracing for the blow.

He struggled and bit desperately, his arms covered in bloody marks from the struggle.

His cries echoed under the bridge, lost in the chaos.

He kept his eyes locked on my corpse, letting out muffled cries.

He wouldn’t look away, even as the pain grew worse. I wanted to reach out, to save him, but I was just a ghost.

Savannah, smug, still found time to sneer at me. “Ethan Carter, what kind of father are you?”

She spat the words, voice dripping with contempt. “I had a perfectly good son, and you turned him into a mad dog!”

The crowd exploded.

They shouted, jeered, blaming me for everything. Their words were knives, cutting deep.

Everyone pointed at me.

Fingers jabbed the air. “So that’s the dad, huh?”

They glared at my body, disgusted.

“Look at him, sitting there while we curse him, not reacting at all! Shameless!”

A man spat on the ground, shaking his head. “Like father, like son! Beating his own mother—must be the dad’s doing!”

“This bastard should be put down!”

Someone kicked dirt at my feet, sneering.

Savannah waved away the stench. “Hiding here to avoid the loan sharks? Get back to work and pay off the debt!”

She wrinkled her nose, stepping back. “I’ll forgive you for disappearing these past few days.”

As she spoke, she reached over to grab me.

She reached for my shoulder, intent on dragging me up.

Then—

She pulled off the blanket covering me. A wave of stench hit the crowd.

The smell was overwhelming—rot, blood, decay. People staggered back, gagging.

People scattered, clutching their stomachs and retching.

A woman screamed, dropping her coffee. Someone else covered their mouth, eyes wide with horror.

Savannah froze, her face drained of color.

Her hand shook, the bravado gone. She stared at my body, realization dawning.

My abdomen had rotted open, swarming with green bottle flies. Corpse fluids trickled through the cracks in the stone, pooling at her feet.

The sight was grotesque, impossible to ignore. The truth was finally, horribly visible for all to see.

For the first time, no one had a word to say.