21
Raine
Who the hellwould be in here at this hour? Probably stupid teenagers hooking up where they think no one will find them. Idiots.
For the last seven years, I have thought about this damn lake as if it were my last living family member. However, Granddad's ashes were spread around the area, making this place mylastdyingrelative. He's here, and I feel him—that's all that matters.
The days I spent on that dock fishing with Granddad were memories I would pay to relive. Then, of course, Haven, and our time at the dock only added to that. Regardless of those few moments being tarnished by a lie, this place is mine, and I will keep coming here until the day I die.
The silence contained between the trees gives me a straight shot up to where I think Granddad is watching me from, and right now I have a lot of explaining to do. I feel like the only thing I've managed to accomplish since he died is to let him down, time after time. I could tell anyone who would listen that none of those times were my fault, but I don't have anyone who would listen.
I jog down the hill to the dock, finding the damage left behind by the drought I heard so much about. I can't believe it. After fifty years, this damn lake has started to recede. Granddad thought it should have happened years ago, and because it didn't, he called this the Lake of Luck. It's not an official name—the lake has no real name, but I can agree with him on that. It’s been lucky for me. As I reach the dock, I see a pile of shit at the end.What the hell is that? Walking the dozen or so feet toward the edge, I see a crumpled dress and a pair of shoes, alerting me to look out into the water where I see a body floating face down in less than two feet of water.
After what feels like an eternity, the shock wears off, and my intuition kicks in, telling me to react. I don't bother with my shoes or clothes; I hop down from the wooden boards and race across the rocks until I reach the water. It's so fucking cold, it's no wonder whoever was dumb enough to go swimming in this shit got themselves into trouble. Even though the body is just a few feet from the shore, it feels like it takes a year for me to power through the frigid, shallow water to see that the person is a young chick, dressed only in her underwear. What the hell? I grab the woman and throw her over my shoulder while slowly pushing my way back through the ice-cold water.
As I reach the rocks, I lay the woman down on her back, immediately feeling choked. "Haven!" I shout, shaking her wildly. "What the hell were you trying to do? Are you out of your mind?" She's unconscious, and I’m yelling, which is not helping. Freaking the fuck out, I begin compressions on her chest, something Granddad forced me to learn before we started going on camping trips every weekend of the summer. If we were out in the woods alone, I needed to be prepared for anything, butI'm not prepared for this.
Her body is ice cold, and blood is spilling down the side of her leg.Did someone fucking do this to you?Thoughts of pissing off her fiancé last night when I came to the door in my boxers is the only thing passing through my mind.
This is my fault.
Maybe she couldn't forgive herself for what she did to me.
Because I couldn't forgive her.
This is my fault.
I lower my body on top of hers, forcing warmth into her bare skin as I press my ear up against her chest, listening for her heartbeat. All I hear is the water in her lungs, which is much louder than what I would expect her heartbeat to sound like. I hope that I just can’t hear her heart over the sound of her lungs right now. I press back up to my knees and restart the compressions, counting, and forcing air into her mouth as I tilt her head back. Again. And again.She's not moving.
A seize of shudders quakes through my body and my nerves ignite. I couldn't forgive her.She wanted to be with me bad enough that she lied about a two-year age difference. But why? If she didn't know what the goddamn law was, why would she lie?How many times can I ask this same question and still not have a good enough answer or understanding? She had to have known it was against the law. She had to have known her dad would ruin my life if he had the chance.Why wouldn't she think that?Only I know the real reason he would do something like that to me.
Again I repeat the compressions, using more force than I did before, this time without concern for causing her further injury. She needs to wake the hell up. "Haven, you have to wake up. I can't live with this on my conscience." It's all about me.When did I become a person who was all about myself? She’s dying, and all I’m worried about is having to live with the guilt of making her kill herself?How much hate do I have for others that I have completely forgotten the values Granddad branded me with. What have I become?
How long can a person go without oxygen?Thank God, I don't know the answer to that. Frustrated and out of ideas, I flip her over my arm and wail my hand against her back several times. Water chokes from her throat, spraying everywhere around us as her lungs finally struggle for air. I lift her up, keeping her neck arched back to help her pull in more oxygen. Her eyes still don't open, and the breaths stop again, so I repeat the pounding on her back at least ten more times before more water spews out of her mouth. Her breaths sound less constricted now. As she struggles to breathe, the whistling in her lungs grows louder, but I think that's a good thing. "Haven," I say sternly. "Dammit. Look at me." Her eyelashes flutter against her ghostly white skin, and the hazel glow in her eyes burns right through me. "You're okay." I wrap my arms around her tighter than I should but not nearly as tightly as I need. "It's okay."
Haven continues to cough as she begins to cry, and her body trembles against mine. "I thought I was going to die," she chokes out.
"What the hell happened?" I don't know if she has enough oxygen to say more than she has but I have to find out what caused this.
She doesn't answer right away, but I feel the speed of her inhales slow down. "I came here—I…I wanted to get away from him.” She leans forward, clutching at her stomach while coughing up more water. It takes her a minute to catch her breath again, but as she does, she glances back over at me. “I fell down a hill here—I was bleeding a lot, so I went to rinse it off and—I can't deal with blood too well, that and the cold.” She sounds as if she just ran a marathon while taking in a few more shuddered breaths. “I must have blacked out."
"What were you thinking?" I question her.
"I wasn’t," she says, sniffling.
I exhale the breath I had been holding in for the last few minutes and lift her up, bringing her back to the dock where her clothes are. I sit her down but continue to stand, keeping a boundary I feel is necessary. "I thought your—almost fiancé, whatever he is, did this to you," I tell her.
"Bennett?" she questions.
"Yeah, whatever his name is."
"No, he didn't do this," she says, twisting a wet strand of hair behind her shoulder. "How did you know I was here?"
"I didn't," I tell her honestly. "I didn't know that was your car."
We both look at each other for a long moment, realizing what would have happened if Ididn'tfind her here in this secluded area no one knows about.
Still shivering, she shakily slips her dress on over her head and slides her arms through the sleeves of her sweater. "We should get you to a hospital," I tell her, looking at the wound on her leg. "That's going to need stitches."
