Right into their left eye.
Anguish erupts from their being; they twist away, reaching for the shoe to yank it out. I retch as blood gushes from the wound, splashing against my face and chest. I can’t afford to pass out right now.
The hooded figure falls forward, clutching at their mask as if trying to tear it off while their wailing shakes the treetops.
I push onto my knees, aware that I don’t have much time before my attacker recovers. Struggling to my feet, I rub at my neck. It still feels like they have their fingers around it, and that coupled with the gore sends a surge of panic through my chest.
A shadow off to the side catches my immediate attention; a body lying on the ground seems to lift slightly. I inch a foot toward them, paralyzed by fear and confusion.
From the corner of my eye, I see the assailant stagger to a standing position, and then they start in my direction, letting out a scream that rattles against my skull.
Bracing, I wait for impact, ducking at the very last second. The masked figure, soaked in their own blood, loses their footing. They slip on the mud, and their limbs go slack, their body catapulting forward.
Plunging right into the lake.
Their body contorts, thrashing as they try to get their bearings. Their one good eye is frozen in horror as the water swallows them whole.
My heart pounds in my ears. I wait for them to come back up. For bubbles to appear on the surface, indicating their return.
But nothing else happens.
Silence blankets the forest. Even up above where the party is going on, all noise has ceased. For me at least. My chin quivers.
I open and close my hands over and over, trying to make sense of what just happened. Throat tight, I lean over the edge of the embankment to see if there’s anything visible—running on the instinct to save instead of destroy.
The water’s pitch-black. Opaque twilight looks back at me, each ripple a taunt.
Swallowing, I force myself to focus on the immobile figure a few yards away. They’re lying on their back at the edge of the lake, one foot still submerged in the water. As I walk over, I can see their clothes—a thin sweater and slacks—are in tatters, having been shredded by who knows what. A beast or fellow man… There’s no telling out here.
When I crouch down, pushing drenched hair from the man’s forehead, I note the bruises and blood covering him and instantly withdraw. The entire underside of his jaw is blackened, his cheek swollen from some sort of abuse, while burn marks decorate him, visible through the torn clothing.
He’s unidentifiable with the debris and abrasions.
The crimson on his skin is smeared, somewhat diluted, and I realize after a beat that he’s soaked from head to toe. It’s as if he somehow dragged himself out of the lake.
A lump forms in my throat at the thought of what put him there. How hard he’d have had to try to get out. I wonder if my attacker was his too.
With shaky hands, I clench my jaw and avoid looking at the blood, laying my palms on his chest to begin compressions. I’m not sure how much time has passed since he resurfaced, but action is always better than nothing.
The eyes of my assailant flash in my mind, sending a raw shiver across my skin.
I lower my mouth to the stranger’s, desperate to get him breathing again.
I’m not sure why it matters, really. Death is as much a part of life as anything else in my family, so we were raised with a more calloused view of it. People die—or get killed—all the time.
But it’s never been my fault before.
Perhaps that’s what unsettles me. Or maybe it’s the way the forest seems to stare, watching as I breathe between an unknown man’s lips, judging silently as if the sole witness to the crimes committed here tonight.
As hushed voices carry through the forest now, I’m reminded of the immediate aftermath of that night—how I dove to the shadows the second the strange man began coughing up water, because I’d heard voices then too.
Crawling on my stomach as far from the site as I could get but not before glimpsing a crowd of cloaked figures swooping in and taking the man away. I’d stayed still, caught up in thorns and poison ivy, waiting for them to leave.
Hoping they didn’t notice me while those eyes painted themselves into my memory.
Calling my father and Uncle Kieran, who lives just one state over and has his own bloody history, to come find me once I got far enough away and had service. I told them about the person falling into the lake, and they came back later to scour the water together, never finding anything.
After that, everyone seemed to move on, though Quincy never really forgave me for wandering off on my own.
