41
It happens so quickly Idon’t realize it until it’s done. The splash is immediately swallowed up in silence. Everything is wrong. Every instinct in my body tells me to rush to the edge of the boat, to throw a line, to shoutMan overboard, to start the safety protocol I’ve known by heart since I was six.
But I somehow don’t move.
The moonlight hazes down through a light mist that’s begun to settle over the lake, my arms look almost iridescent rising up before me, and I listen. Below, Chase and Mila are silent. I look back to the house, my eyes instinctively going straight to the attic window, and I see the silhouette of a head in profile, bent down. Reading. Emily. Maybe with her tarot cards. I see a shadow pass behind her, and frost creeps over my skin.
After Miss Palindrome’s murder, the blue lady disappeared along with the others, but they weren’t gone. The woman on the stairs always gave me a chill when I had to get something from the cellar, and sometimes I stumbled on the steps. The crushed man bounced around between the living room and garden. He might have been a groundskeeper once—I feel the breeze of his approval when I tend to the roses. Or he might be the one who kills them. I like to think it’s the former. No one who hates flowers haunts a garden.
The backward girl is a drifter, sometimes lying in the grass in the warm sunshine, sometimes fluttering a breeze through an open door. And the blue lady is everywhere, but especially the attic. I sometimes feel they’re hiding from me. Like they think that since I can’t see them anymore, I don’t know they’re there. Like I can’t feel when they draw close to inspect me curiously or allow themselves to treat me like their pet again. I’m pretty sure that’s how they’ve always seen me. Their quaint, living pet.
The problem is that the living and the dead aren’t meant to mix.
The problem is that I think the line has begun to blur.
The problem is that I have spent so long in the world of the dead that I am about to lose one of the living and it is entirely my fault.
Oh god, what if that was their plan from the beginning?
What have I done?
Suddenly a sound splits the air and I’m jolted back into the present.
Chelsea. She’s standing on the dock, shouting.
I rush to the edge of the boat and look down, the gravity of the situation finally sinking in. He hasn’t resurfaced. Ryan, who is an excellent swimmer, who just today jumped in to rescue Mila, is still underwater, and I don’t know how long it’s been. He is underwater with the dripping man. And the dripping man doesn’t let go. I move clumsily, hyperaware of the amount of alcohol in my bloodstream, the possible concussion, the instructions to sit still and rest tonight. My sweater sticks around my neck, and I stumble on my way to the cabin door. Ipound my sneaker down on it repeatedly as I wrestle to get my sweater over my head.
Chase finally yanks the door open. “What?”
I pull the sweater off, gasping. “Ryan went overboard. He’s gone under. I don’t see him. I need you above to watch the water while I go after him.”
“No. You stay on board. I’ll go in after him.” He scales the ladder in an instant and surveys the water uncertainly. “Where?”
Mila climbs up, looking terrified. “I can barely swim.”
“Good.” I kick my sneakers off. “I need you to stay aboard. Both of you. If you see me in distress, throw me a safety line.”
Chase shakes his head. “I’m going in.”
At that moment, there is a distant splash, and all three of us turn our heads.
“Was that him?” Mila asks.
“Shit. No.” I climb over the edge of the boat and scan the water by the dock, at the figure cutting through the water toward us. “That was Chelsea.”
“Chelsea can’t swim,” Chase says, rising panic in his voice.
“She can,” I say. “She just doesn’t.” The terrible feeling in my gut is beginning to spread throughout my body like frost. There’s no time to explain. Or decide. “Chase, if you start to feel cold, get out. It’s not worth it. You take that side. I’ll take this area. He went in over here.” I point to the general area where Ryan hit the water. My heart continues to race faster and faster. What if we can’t rescue him? I pushed him. I did it. This isn’t happening. It can’t. It can’t happen. “Mila, keep your eyes on Chelsea.”
I dive into the water without wasting another second.We’ve wasted too many. No. Organization is vital to rescue. What if we both searched the same spot? What if we both looked for Ryan, but no one looked out for Chelsea, and we lost both of them? The black water surrounds me, and my thoughts overcrowd my mind.
He’s down here. One of us will drown tonight.
How did this happen? I swim down as far as I can and spiral my way up in attempt to cover as much area as possible, but I hit nothing. When my head breaks the surface, I have to tread water for a moment to regain my balance. The world is tilting back and forth, sliding in and out of focus. Not now. I’m not going to lose it now.
I see Chase surface and we make eye contact. “Anything?” I shout.
“No. Going a little deeper.”