Bury Me(13)

Soon, there will be a few more graves added to this spot. They will rot and decay and writhe in agony when they show up at the gates of hell, just like they deserve.

My feet stutter to a stop right at the entrance to the cemetery when I’m hit with that thought, so vicious and unsettling that I have to press my hand over my mouth to keep the contents of my lunch in my stomach. My eyes dart back and forth over the tops of the stone crosses and other markers I can see through the opening into the cemetery. I don’t like this place. I don’t like being reminded that people died in the place that I call home, even if it happened long before I was born. My mind is just playing tricks on me—it has to be. I’m not a mean person and I would never wish harm on someone else. I’m a good girl, a good daughter, and I’ve never done anything bad.

“I’m doing this for your own good. You’re bad, bad, bad.”

I immediately take off running, away from the cemetery and away from the words that echo in my head. I make it to the water’s edge in record time and stop next to an outcropping of weeds and * willows, calming my racing heart and pushing aside the thoughts in my head that are making me crazy.

The sun glints off of the smooth surface of the water, and I have to shield my eyes from the bright glare. With no trees in the immediate vicinity of the lake, there’s nothing to shade me from the heat of the early afternoon sun, and it’s not long before I feel sweat dripping down my back beneath my dress. The water looks cool and inviting and I wish I would have had the foresight to put on my bathing suit before I walked down here. Another wayward thought pops into my head as I stare out at the water: I don’t own a bathing suit. Thinking about the dresses that hang in my closet and the other articles of clothing folded neatly in my dresser, I realize I haven’t seen one in any of my things. I find that strange, considering we have a lake on our property with a dock attached, one that is perfect for running down and jumping into the refreshing water.

Gazing at the dock a hundred yards away, I drop my hand from shielding my eyes from the sun and make my way toward it. As I step onto the worn and rickety boards that hover over the water, excitement fills me at the thought of running across it and jumping into the water with my clothes on. I can almost feel myself sinking to the bottom of the murky water, letting it cool my sweaty skin and erase all of my bad thoughts while the darkness swallows me up and blocks out the sun. I continue walking along the dock in a daze as I survey the water, imagining my feet sinking into the mud and the sand at the bottom of the lake before pushing off and soaring back up to the surface. I want to disappear under the water and feel alive. I want to kick my feet, pull my arms through the water, and propel my body as fast as I can until I feel the burn in my muscles that makes me feel strong and in control.

I take a deep breath and hold it in my lungs, closing my eyes and lifting my foot off the end of the dock, wanting nothing more than to sink into oblivion. Spreading my arms out from my body, I feel myself falling forward and my heart speeds up in anticipation. Right when I excitedly expect to feel myself splash into the cold water, strong arms wrap around my waist, and I’m yanked backward so quickly that I shout in disappointment and anger.

“Let me go! I want to swim!” I scream, clawing at the arms around me that drag me back away from the edge of the dock.

I’m suddenly lifted up from the wood as I kick and shout in protest, the arms around me holding tighter while I longingly eye the water. The thumping of footsteps against the dock swiftly fades away as I’m moved onto the grass surrounding the lake. I continue to yell and fight against the arms that hold me, my shouts of protest immediately cut off when I’m dropped onto my butt in the grass. Ignoring the pain in my rear end from being tossed to the ground and the embarrassment of being dragged away from the water like a rag doll, I scramble up from the grass and whirl around to confront the person who put a stop to my plans.

My mouth drops open in surprise when I see Nolan standing in front of me with his hands casually resting on his hips. I should be afraid that I’m out here alone with him, far enough from the prison that no one will hear me if I scream, but I’m too angry to worry about my safety.

“What the hell are you doing?” I yell angrily.

“Saving you from drowning. A thank you would be nice,” he deadpans.

Once again, I’m struck by how nice he is to look at. Just like always, he’s dressed in a ratty pair of jeans and an old t-shirt that clings to his body, covered in dirt and sweat from working outside under the blazing sun. His shaggy blonde hair hangs down over one eye, making him look cute and innocent, instead of mean and imposing. I’m so furious at being taken away from the water that I forget about being afraid and mistrustful of him.