*03/03/2020 - 𝙐𝙉𝘿𝙄𝙎𝘾𝙊𝙑𝙀𝙍𝙀𝘿 𝙁𝙀𝘼𝙏𝙐𝙍𝙀𝘿 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏*
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Everybody at Black Hill knows about the lake by the old house. They know never to let an open wound bleed out in the murky waters. Never to take their e...
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AFTER THE INCIDENT - Spring '19
"What if they catch us?" Oliver asked. His voice sounded small in the vast expanse of forest trees.
It was nearing evening, and the sun spilled orange-colored light through the canopy. The air smelled crisp, the scent of pine needles overpowering everything else. I gripped Oliver's hand, taking in everything from the birds nesting in the trees to the leaves on the ground.
"You didn't have to come if you didn't want to," I reminded him.
I frowned at the indents we made in the path. Our footsteps stood out, pressed spaces of mud that seemed to jump out and grab your attention. They were obvious, and I bet they would be even more so to trained forensic specialists. We had to cover them up, at least partly.
"But I wanted to," Oliver said. He adjusted the sketchbook tucked underneath his arm, determination painted across his features. I looked away, nostalgia a heavy shadow in my heart. He looked so much like Papa sometimes. "I don't want you to be alone. What if the lake takes you again?"
Warmth blossomed in my chest, and I squeezed his hand tight.
"Thanks, Ollie. Now, wait here for a second."
I let go of his hand and grabbed the mulch of fallen leaves that littered the base of the trees. The canopy swayed above us, scatters of sunlight shining through the gaps above. The leaves were wet where the darkness reached them and fell apart in my hands. I grabbed a handful, my stomach rolling at the feeling. They squelched between my fingers, dripping mud onto the ground.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm covering our tracks. Come on, help me scatter these leaves over our footsteps." I said, jerking my head to the path.
Together, we sprinkled the wet leaves over the indents. Oliver tried to clean his hands on my leggings. I grabbed his tiny wrists and pushed him away.
"Stop it." My voice sounded tense. Oliver frowned and stepped away from me.
Nerves sat at the base of my throat, so heavy I felt I couldn't breathe. I forced my legs to work and breathed deep into the cool spring air. I guided Oliver to the edge of the clearing that opened up to the lake banks.
"Be very still and quiet, now, ok?" I said.
Oliver nodded, waving me off. Rolling my eyes, I hid behind huge bushes, staring at the big white tent on the far bank of the lake. Memories of murky lake water and floating logs flashed across my vision. I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself, and tried not to think of the freezing winter air on my bare skin.
The lake called to me.
That was the only way I could describe it. The lap of the water reached my ears from far away. It sounded like a strange type of music, lilting and echoey. I shook my head to clear it and forced myself to pay attention.
