Chapter 133 - 10
I always shop at thrift stores. Nice clothes and cheap as dirt.
Mary comes from a loaded family. She moved into my apartment building after a fight with her parents about her independence, but she still gets an allowance from her parents. She’s used to shopping at fancy places that cater to the wealthier class.
Unlike me, Mary also enjoys the process of shopping. My feet are throbbing by the time we’ve finalized the purchase of my new shoes.
"Let’s get a purse to match!" my friend says excitedly.
I turn around to face her, putting my hand on her shoulder, my expression grim. "Mary, you know I love you, don’t you?"
She nods happily.
"Then, know I say this with all the love in my heart, and more: if I have to go to another store with you, I’m going to kill myself."
Mary stares at me. "You don’t like shopping."
"I hate it. I like spending time with you, but I truly hate shopping."
"But we have to get—"
"Why don’t you choose the purse?" I suggest. "I trust your judgment. You found me such a beautiful dress and such lovely shoes, how can I not?"
Mary flushes, pleased. "I get it. Besides, you’re on your feet all day for your job anyway. You probably want to rest on your day off. Let’s meet up this evening. I want to take you out to dinner."
"No." I shake my head. "I’m taking you to dinner. I saved up for it and already made reservations. It’s a really nice Italian place, downtown. You’ll love it."
"But it’s your birthday!" Mary protests.
"And you’re my friend." I shut her down. "You’ve done a lot for me today. Let me do this for you, Mary. Please."
She sighs heavily. "Alright. You win. Text me the details, and I’ll meet you there. I have to go see my parents in an hour, as well."
We part ways, and I head toward the woods.
As I reach the lake and sit on the bank, lowering my legs into the water, I wonder what it is that I’m doing. This is stupidity personified, but the curiosity within me is growing by the second. Just last night, I had found the idea of dead witch bodies in the lake disturbing. Today, I want to jump in and swim to the bottom looking for them.
I seem to have no sense of self-preservation at the moment.
"This is not a good idea," I say out loud. "You could drown. And for what? To confirm something that has nothing to do with you?"
If I thought saying the words aloud would change my mind, I was wrong. It does nothing.
I pull off my shirt and roll my shoulders. "Who cares if I drown? It’s not like anybody will look for me. It’s the first time I’m doing something so reckless. I should enjoy it."
That’s a lie, though. The enjoyment part. I’m not enjoying this. My stomach is clenched so tight I might throw up. My hands are shaking so badly I can barely unbutton my jeans. But fear and recklessness feel the same from the outside, don’t they? Same racing heart. Same shallow breath. Same voice in your head screaming stop while your body keeps moving.
I think about Mary again. She’d lose her mind if she could see me right now. She’d grab my arm and drag me back to the apartment and make me watch a movie and eat ice cream until I forgot I ever wanted to do something this stupid. That’s what rich kids do. They fix things with money and distractions. They don’t understand that some of us need to break something just to feel alive. I’m not breaking anything except maybe myself. And right now, that feels like a fair trade.
I’ve spent my whole life being careful. Being small. Being grateful for what I get. I’ve never once done something just because I wanted to, consequences be damned. So fine. I’ll drown. Or I won’t. Either way, I’m done asking permission to exist.
The pep talk does nothing, either.
I sit there on the grass for a minute, just breathing. My heart’s already racing, and I haven’t even done anything yet. Part of me knows this is insane. I can’t swim that well. I don’t know what’s down there. But another part of me, a louder part, keeps asking, "What if?" What if the stories are real? What if those bodies are actually there? I think about Mary heading off to see her parents, probably getting into another fight about money or freedom or whatever rich people argue about. And here I am, a girl who budgets for ramen and only buys jeans with holes already in them because they’re cheaper that way, about to jump into a lake looking for dead witches. It’s ridiculous. But I can’t walk away.
My mother used to tell me stories about the dark witches before she disappeared. She said they weren’t evil, just desperate. And desperate people do terrible things to survive.
I never believed her. I thought she was making excuses for them because one of them was her sister. My aunt. The woman who tried to kill me when I was seven. The woman whose body is supposedly rotting at the bottom of this lake. I stand up and pace along the shore, kicking at pebbles.
What am I really looking for down there? Proof that the coven didn’t lie? Closure? Revenge for something I didn’t even know I wanted revenge for? For twelve years, I’ve had nightmares about my aunt crawling out of the shadows, about her white eyes staring at me from the foot of my bed. My mother said the lake took her. The other witches held her down and drowned her for what she did to me. But I never saw the body. And a body you don’t see isn’t really gone. It’s just waiting. So maybe that’s it. Maybe I’m not curious. Maybe I’m just tired of being afraid of a dead woman.
I look back at the water. It’s so calm. Almost pretty. You’d never guess there might be something terrible underneath. That’s how it always is, isn’t it? Things look fine on the surface.
My life looks fine. A job, an apartment, a friend like Mary. But underneath, I’m tired. I’m curious. I’m lonely in a way I don’t know how to explain. Maybe that’s why I’m doing this. Not because I’m brave. Because I’m bored of being careful. Because for once, I want to do something that isn’t about saving money or saving face or saving energy. I want to do something stupid and see what happens. So what if I drown? At least it wouldn’t be boring.
Taking a deep breath, I jump into the lake.
I only ever come here in the evenings. In the daytime, the lake is crystal clear. However, the bottom of the lake is so deep that I can’t see it.
Since nobody pulled me in this time, I’m not panicking. I’m able to control my movements. Determination fuels me, and I swim even deeper. Wolf shifters can hold their breath for long periods of time. At least, longer than a human can.
The water presses against my ears, and everything goes quiet except my own heartbeat. Thump. Thump. Thump. It’s the most peaceful I’ve felt in years. Down here, nobody wants anything from me. No customers asking for more coffee. No landlord wanting rent. No Mary with her endless enthusiasm for things I can’t afford. Just cold water and dark silence.
I think about my mother again. She loved the water. She used to take me to a different lake when I was little, before the bad thing happened. We’d swim until our fingers pruned, and she’d point at fish and call them by names she made up on the spot. That woman is gone now. Disappeared. Probably dead. And I never cried about it. Not once. I was too busy being afraid of her sister. But swimming here, in this lake full of dead witches, I feel something close to her. Not her ghost. Just... the memory of being held. Of being safe. Of believing someone would catch me if I fell. I haven’t felt that way since I was seven. Maybe that’s what I’m really doing down here. Not looking for bodies. Looking for the last time I wasn’t alone.
At first, I see no sign of the bottom, and disappointment starts to creep in. Then, I start making out shapes. As I swim closer, my vision grows clearer. My heart begins to beat loudly in my chest. It’s true! The dark witches are buried here in the lake!
I should feel fear, but I don’t.
I shouldn’t stay down here. I should go back up to the surface.
However, I’m suddenly overcome with a sense of urgency, and I swim even closer to the bodies lying on the lake bottom. They look like they’re sleeping. Even the wildlife has not touched them.
I reach out with my hand.
What are you doing? The voice in my head is screaming at me, but I can’t stop myself.
Then, out of nowhere, the dead woman closest to me seizes my wrist. Her eyes fly open. They’re white.
I open my mouth to scream, and water rushes in. Her grip is so tight that I can’t pull free.
Panic fills me as I see her lips moving. And then, the whole world goes dark.