THE GATES OF HAVEN: HEART'S HOME

CHAPTER 11

"Eeeeeeyaaaaaaah!" I screamed as I dove in about five metres away from Chel.

What the hell was I thinking? Ice cold water!

Chel laughed when I surfaced.

"Feels great, doesn't it?"

"It's f-f-f-fucking freezing!" I yelled.

"Relax! Your immune system is stronger now. You can handle it."

"This is your idea of fun?"

"Jesus, you're such a wuss! Just stay under. Have you held your breath lately? Now that you've changed you can hold it forever."

"I'm heading back," I muttered.

"Oh, come on! You're seriously scared off by a little cold water? It's invigorating!"

He flapped his arms against the water, making it splash everywhere.

"You are freaking nuts," I grumbled.

I held my breath and dipped under the water to see if I could stand it. It was so bloody cold. After staying under just long enough to get used to the temperature, I swam back toward the bank. Chel was right, though, I had no issues with holding my breath. Once I got to the bank, I trudged the rest of the distance on top of the ice and snow. My feet were now completely numb. Idiot. Who the hell jumps into a freezing cold lake? Me, that's who. I took the clothes I'd scattered on the ground, dried myself off with the sweater, dressed in the clothes that were in my bag and then put my jacket back on. It felt good to be back in my own stuff again. My father's jeans were still relatively dry, so I placed them flat on the snow and sat on them as I waited for Chel to return.

Then he came walking back up, and in the moonlight he really did, for a moment, look like... a girl. He had a small pair. I mean, I'd seen bigger tits on actual guys. What made him feminine, however, wasn't the chest size, or even the lack of penis. It was the slight indent at the waist. He had curves.

As he came closer, my anxiety level skyrocketed as I saw millions, upon millions, of scars all over his body. Someone had gone sicko creative on him, and he'd been tortured over and over again. Knife marks, round indents that might have been cigarette burns, whole shapes, a broken heart, the words "slut" and "freak," the head of a bull, all engraved into his skin. Thin white hints of torment and suffering. His breasts had taken the brunt of the pain. From a distance they were a nice pair, small but shapely. Up close, it was evident they'd been carved and sliced, just enough to leave a kind of striped pattern on them. Some certifiable loony had really done a number on this guy.

"Stop gawkin'," he grumbled as he yanked on his clothes.

"Hey, dry yourself off first. Here."

I threw the sweater at him. He caught it, stared at it for a second, and threw it back at me.

"Don't need it. Not like I'm gonna catch a cold from being wet."

"Suit yourself."

He finished dressing, walked over, plopped down on the snow-covered ground beside me and lay back. I took the sweater and placed it under my head to join him. I was getting used to the cold now. It still prickled me in certain places, but I didn't get full on frostbite the way I'd expected, which was a nice surprise. We stayed there, staring at the of stars, and it reminded me of what it was like seeing the sky from back home.

"Hey, Chel? You mind if we spend an extra night in Thunder Bay? I'd like to see my mum."

"Yeah, sure. Just so long as she doesn't try to feed me," he said, laughing.