Lilly takes one step forward, closer to the edge, then another. The police are ushering people back but they can't see her, can't stop her.

She stands on the very edge now, looking down. Piece of the bus -a tire, fragments of metal painted that distinctive orange, a broken seat- are floating to the surface. She doesn't let herself blink.

This is what you didn't stop.

Lilly keeps looking until the first bodies break the surface. One of them has blonde hair, and if she could she'd throw up at the sight of it.