Daydream Lake

Chapter One

The wind was like a crack whip against her face as she walked huddled up right into the mouth of the storm. Her eyes were closed the whole time because even though she knew she was going to meet death, she’d rather not look it in the eye. She was a coward; she had been called that before. Her flip-fops were far too weak to protect her feet from cuts and blisters and her coat was too thin to save her from freezing. Still, she walked on, blind and numb, with a disturbing smile on her face.

She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and stopped for a moment, debating whether to pick it up or not. She rested her hand on her pocket and let the vibrations travel up though her fingers through her arm to her body, desperately trying to revive her heart, which, despite being battered and broken, still beat vigorously in her chest. Every beat was pain enough to last a lifetime. The truth is, Rosalie wanted to die, but she’d told herself that if she survived this attempt at suicide, she’d give up trying to die and search for a reason to live instead. 

She pulled the device out of her pocket and looked at the caller id. It was him.

With a long drawn breath, she pressed enter and held it to her ear.

“Hello?” he said, “Hello, Rosalie?”

Hearing him say her name sent chills shooting up her spine, and even if just for a second, managed to revive her heart. She didn’t say anything, just dropped her phone into a puddle beside her foot and felt his intoxicating voice drown out, like she was wishing her heart beat would.

A few more paces into the woods, and she fell to her knees, and the icy water seeped through her jeans. In the pit of her stomach, she wondered whether these were her last few breaths, and so she looked back at her life, like any dying soul would. At 17, there wasn’t much to look back at.

Images of her parents paraded through her mind, followed by a few of companions from her childhood, friends from later years, and finally she saw a blurry image of him. She was glad it was blurry because she knew another sight of his face, and she wouldn’t be able to hold on to life any longer. 

Rosalie brought her hand to her face, wiped away the tears and tried to lift herself to her feet. She managed to hobble to a dry spot beneath a tree. She had promised herself that she’d be smiling when she died. She yelled and screamed and asked God why he had done what he had. She yelled his name and wondered if anyone heard her over the loud lashing wind and rain. Her screams gradually got softer, slower, and less angry. Finally, “Cameron,” she whispered, shivering, “Come save me if you love me.”

Leaning back against the tree trunk, she ran her hands through her hair and searched for the little rose that had been tucked behind her ear. She drew it out slowly, and clenched it tight in her fists before her eyes, as she watched the petals tear apart, the stem shrivel up and its beauty die out like flickering flame. The last thing she saw before passing out was the remains of that rose be whipped away by the wind into a million directions, out of sight forever.

*     *     *                                            *     *     *

Wilhelmina cried profusely that night. She sat up in bed against the head board; her knees pulled up to her chest and shed tears like a little girl. Even though her husband was not beside her, she didn’t really feel his absence. Xavier was in the adjacent room with their daughter Rosalie, who lay unconscious on her bed. The paramedic had said that she would be fine, and was baffled as to how she had survived the cyclone. “There’s some bruising on her limbs and back…” He had said as his colleagues brought her in on a stretcher at 1:30am, “She just missed hypothermia by a minute.”