I only managed a light sleep, waking often, moving through sweat-soaked half-dreams and an unfocused mirage that may have been reality. I saw Austin, and Tim, and Jackie, and Mother, juxtaposed over the dark walls of my room. I dreamt of cool, then of heat. I woke to heat. The humid pressure that constantly coated my skin felt like a second heart, trapping me with a lethargic, thudding beat.
I wondered how Mother carried herself, alone in her room, tucked into her bed. Did she finally allow her shoulders to slump, her back to round, her eyes to soften?
No, I didn't have to bring him. I didn't have to. The thought grew, grew, until it became a tangible thing I could begin to picture: Austin's lips drawn out in a pout, his eyes wide and shimmering. Austin quiet, pensive, spending the day in his room. Austin hovering by the water bucket as if working up the courage, then toppling it in a rage. I didn't care. I would take any of it.
I wouldn't bring him.
I wouldn't be returning to the well for another two days. In the meantime, I would do my utmost to distract Austin.
I wouldn't bring him.
YOU ARE READING
The Well
HororEvery three days, Cameron journeys to the well to fetch his family's water ration. Now his younger brother wants to see the well for himself. Problem is, it's not a well exactly.
