Devil's Lake

1 - Death Beckons

The north shore beach buzzes with activity—people grilling lunches, children frolicking around the beach and splashing in the water. I try to drown out their screams and concentrate on my breathing. It doesn't help.

A heaviness weighs down on my emotions, stronger and with more force. I could puke I feel so terrible.

You drove all this way. What's the point if you don't do it?

Before the tears can fully form, I drop my beach towel and force myself to walk over to the lake's edge. Though no one around me hesitates on running straight in, it looks cold. It seems to warn me to flee. I almost do, but somehow there's a sense of relief.

That's right. It'll be over soon now.

Tracing the perimeter of the lake, I'm forced to maneuver around several groups of people. I nearly bump shoulders with a thin-faced man, then pass a group of college students. A red haired girl sits with her arms around her knees as a guy rubs sunscreen over her back. A blond-haired guy sits beside them, partially on the grass, slapping a football repetitively in his hands.

"So after lunch," I overhear the blond guy say. "Should we go hiking or . . ."

But then his eyes land on me. He stops smacking the ball and gives me a look – a look that causes me to avert my eyes and comb my fingers through my hair.

"Braydon, why would I put on a bikini to go hiking?" the redhead beside him says. "I'm tanning, and then I'm going swimming."

A few paces away, I stop along the empty western end of the beach, past the buoys that mark the end of the swimming area. There's more seaweed here, but this is the best spot I can find. Still, I linger at the lake's edge, letting the water lick my toes. It terrifies me. Why have I chosen to die in the manner that frightens me to death?

"Maybe I haven't," the words escape from my mouth in a whisper. "Maybe I'm just looking for a cure. If I walk in, I won't be afraid of the water anymore."

I cling to that as I close my eyes and enter the lake. It's a slow journey. My body trembles. My legs feel like rubber. Seaweed tickles at my feet and ankles. With each step, my heels sink into warm sand, giving me the illusion that I'm edging toward quicksand, and the liquid keeps rising around me—my knees, my thighs, the bottom of my bathing suit.

You can do this.

But it feels like cold, dead hands washing over me, trying to pull me in. They welcome me home, to the grave I never should have escaped.

I can no longer move. I'm frozen with terror, and the water weighs heavily upon my torso. Still, I bend my knees, covering my shoulders and wetting the ends of my strawberry-blond hair.

My breath quickens. Tears stream down my face, and I open my eyes. My eyes dart around—a few distant heads bobbing in the water. The shore is so far away.

"What am I doing?" I cry out, and then the memories of what my father did flood my mind.

I am submerged under dark waters with two hazy light sources rippling from above. The top of my head aches from the constant pulling at my hair. My lungs feel tightly clenched within my chest, squeezing out the last bits of air, desperate for me to take another breath. But, I can't.

His hand grips me by the hair and holds my entire body under water. My legs kick. There is no surface for my feet to make contact with. Below me seems an empty abyss. I struggle to untangle his hand from my hair as my lungs and throat scream at me. Involuntarily, my mouth opens, and I gulp a large breath. Water floods my mouth, and my lungs burn. My fingers brush the smooth side of something hard.

Everything shifts. I am simply floating underwater. There is no hand above me. There is nothing around me for my hands to touch, nothing for my feet to touch. I am surrounded in a vacuum of dark water.

Though short, my mind seems to make the memory last forever. I stand straight up as waves of dizziness pass over me, and a wind blows through my hair and gives me goosebumps.

I'm going to faint. I'm going to faint, and I'm going to drown. I might as well just—

"Alison."

I startle at the sound of my name, but I don't know if I heard it or imagined it. Turning my head frantically, I search for the owner, my rescuer, but my eyes land on the west bluff looming over the lake. That's when I see the figure looking at me from the edge of the bluff.

He stands among the trees and large gray boulders, his dark hair wavering in the wind as his loose clothing pulls against his thin frame. Something about him is out of place, but—

My vision fades to black. There's a splash. Water is engulfing my face, bubbling up and flooding my nostrils and mouth. I am fainting. I am fainting in the water.

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𝕿𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖐𝖘 𝖘𝖔 𝖒𝖚𝖈𝖍 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖎𝖓𝖌! 𝕯𝖔𝖓'𝖙 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖌𝖊𝖙 𝖙𝖔 𝖛𝖔𝖙𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖙𝖔 𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖜 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖘𝖚𝖕𝖕𝖔𝖗𝖙.