Chapter 6: The Others

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Let me describe being in a painting for you: It sucks.

...

My body was encased in cold darkness. The sensation was palpable, like I had landed in a pool of chilled tar. There was no ground to stand on, so I was just hovering mid-air like a puppet without strings.

I couldn't see, but I could feel everything. Like the clawed hands dragging me deeper into hell, weighing down my legs like anchors. Their sharp fingers dug into the skin of my ankles, drawing blood.

My breaths were short and panicked. I felt like I was underwater, weighed down by the pressure of the sea. I was sinking slowly, unable to speak, and growing cold all over. In a matter of seconds my fingertips were icy, and my lips were completely numb. I couldn't find the strength to kick off the hands that gripped me, even as they bled me dry.

Cold tears slipped down my cheeks at the thought that this might be it. I would never see Uncle Ethan again. I barely spoke to him the other night, too concerned with my own dreams. And he left before I woke up this morning. I missed him like nothing else.

For the first time in a long while, I thought of my father. I remembered the ruthless water that buried him and the car that entombed him. Much like now, all I felt that day was cold darkness surrounding me, crushing my lungs slowly. It all happened so fast that it's a wonder I remembered anything at all. One minute I was sitting in the backseat of his Honda, watching cars pass by. The next I was lurching forward, nose smacking into the front seat as the car plummeted off the bridge and into the water.

There had been no time to panic, no time to scream. Just a split-second of rushed terror, and then my father was gone. I was waking up in a cold hospital room, and my father's body was being recovered from the Mystic River.

My mother sat far away from me, in a small chair across the dimly-lit room. In that dark corner, devoid of light, she seemed almost inhuman. After opening my eyes, the first thing I saw was her hardened face, partly obscured by darkness. Her venomous regard for me was clear, though she hadn't spoken a word. She stared at me like I was a spider she had half a mind to get rid of.

I didn't feel safe until Uncle Ethan walked into the room and smiled at me. He was the light that brought me out of the dark. With him around, I was able to forget the way my mother hated me.

I've been afraid of water since the accident. My fate was sealed in that car, and I knew that it would eventually come back to me. Someday I would die deep underwater, because I evaded death the first time. My worst fears were now becoming a reality, as I sunk further into a dark pool of shadow.

I reached what felt like the bottom of a deep pit, and the crushing hands around my feet vanished. For a moment, I felt a sense of calm. This was all a dream, like any other. If I concentrated hard enough, I could make my way out of here.

I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on waking up. I thought the worst of this nightmare was over, until I heard the faint sound of someone giggling. The sound was startling in its quiet nature, like the hushed murmur of a ghost. The indistinct cackles grew louder, becoming warped, hysterical laughter. Overbearing and sinister, the deranged howls rang out like a horrible alarm, shaking the dark pit from all sides.

I stood shivering in the center of hell, seeing and hearing nothing. All at once, the laughter had cut off. The sudden silence was so disquieting that I turned in a circle, blindly trying to escape. My hand skimmed the smooth surface of carved rock, and I kept my palms anchored there, hoping to wake myself up like the last time. I held my hands up with a shaky breath and waited.

Without warning, a searing pain in my forearm caused me to cry out. It didn't just sting, it burned like someone had lit my arm on fire. I could feel a pair of bare teeth puncturing my skin, pure bone gnawing on flesh. The beast chewed me like a rabid dog, tearing into the muscle with fervor, and somehow managing to cackle all the while.

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