I didn’t understand. I still don’t, really. I stood there and watched Julia fall to her knees. The scream, the sound of it, it hit me like the winds of a tornado, throwing me back. I should have spoken. I should have said something. But I couldn’t. That sound. It took my words away. All I could do was stand there and listen.
As she knelt there, her face changed. In the shining light from above, I saw her change. What had been the face of an angel darkened. I saw hatred there, visceral and raw, as she stared at me. Her hand rose, and she pointed a long, thin finger at me, at my face.
“Where’s Michael?” she screamed. “What did you do to him?”
Her voice rose higher and higher. Her words were frantic and savage. She sprang to her feet, lunging at me, grabbing at my throat.
“What did you do to him? What did you do!?”
Fingernails cut at my skin. Pain flared and her momentum took us to the ground. But I never moved. I know that. I’m sure of it. I never fought back. I never defended myself. I never moved. I know I didn’t.