Chapter 6 - The First Nightmare
1022 Words
The Boy Beneath the Lake
The door handle stopped turning.
Lena held her breath.
Rowan stood between her and the entrance, his shoulders rigid, his gaze fixed on the door.
“Who is it?” she whispered.
“Don't ask questions you don't want answered.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“Neither is silence a promise of safety.”
Before Lena could respond, something scraped across the other side of the door.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Then came a soft laugh.
“Still protecting her, Rowan?”
Rowan's expression hardened.
“Go away.”
“You always were difficult.”
Lena stared at him.
“You know that voice?”
Rowan didn't look at her.
“Stay here.”
He approached the door, but the voice spoke again.
“You cannot keep her from remembering forever.”
Silence followed.
When Rowan finally opened the door, the porch was empty.
Only a black rose lay on the wooden floor.
Its petals were wet.
Lena stepped closer, but Rowan blocked her path.
“Don't touch it.”
“Another rose? Who keeps leaving these things?”
“Someone who wants us to know we're being watched.”
“Then why don't we find them?”
“Because they want you to try.”
He closed the door and locked it.
Lena looked at him, anger fighting against the fear tightening her chest.
“You know more than you're telling me.”
“Yes.”
His honesty startled her.
“Then tell me why someone is trying to make me remember a childhood I can't even recognize.”
Rowan's eyes softened for the briefest moment.
“Because whatever you remember might be enough to get you killed.”
He walked her upstairs and stopped outside her bedroom.
“Lock the door tonight.”
“Will you be nearby?”
The question escaped before she could stop it.
Rowan studied her.
“Until morning.”
He turned to leave, then paused.
“One more thing, Lena.”
She waited.
“If you hear someone calling your name, don't answer.”
“Even if it's you?”
His expression changed.
“Especially if it sounds like me.”
He disappeared down the hallway.
Lena locked her door.
She placed Eleanor's journal beneath her pillow and lay down fully dressed, staring at the ceiling.
Sleep came eventually.
And with it, the lake.
---
Lena stood barefoot at the edge of Hollow Lake.
The sky was black, but the water shimmered beneath a moon that looked unnaturally close.
She knew this place.
Not from photographs.
Not from Rowan's stories.
She knew it the way a person knew the sound of their own heartbeat.
A little girl stood ankle-deep in the water.
She wore a red scarf.
Lena couldn't see her face.
“Who are you?” Lena asked.
The girl tilted her head.
“You forgot me.”
Lena took a step forward.
“I don't know you.”
“Yes, you do.”
The girl's voice trembled.
“You promised you wouldn't leave me.”
Images flashed through Lena's mind: rain against her face, small hands gripping hers, and someone screaming her name.
Then everything vanished.
Lena pressed her palms against her temples.
“What happened here?”
The girl pointed toward the middle of the lake.
“He's coming.”
A tall figure stood on the water.
Black coat.
Wide-brimmed hat.
Motionless beneath the moon.
The Man in Black.
Even in the dream, Lena felt the same terrible certainty that had followed her since returning to Black Hollow.
He had been there before.
On the night she disappeared.
The little girl grabbed Lena's hand.
“We have to hide.”
“Who is he?”
The girl looked up at her.
“You really don't remember?”
The water rippled.
The Man in Black began walking toward them.
Lena tried to move, but her feet had sunk into the muddy shore.
“Run!” she screamed.
The girl squeezed her hand.
“Lena, don't let them take me again!”
Pale hands burst from beneath the water.
They seized Lena's ankles.
She screamed as the lake dragged her forward.
The girl reached for her.
Their fingertips almost touched.
Then the red scarf slipped beneath the surface.
“LENA!”
The water swallowed everything.
As Lena sank into the darkness, a man's voice echoed above her.
“Do not look back.”
But something beneath the lake whispered a different command.
Come home.
---
Lena woke with a strangled gasp.
Her bedroom was dark.
Her sheets were soaked with sweat, and her heart hammered against her ribs.
For several seconds, she couldn't remember where she was.
Then three knocks sounded against the window.
Lena went still.
Her bedroom was on the second floor.
Nobody could reach that window without climbing the wall.
Three more knocks followed.
She slipped out of bed and approached the curtains.
A voice came from outside.
“Lena.”
Rowan's voice.
Her hand stopped inches from the fabric.
Don't answer.
Especially if it sounds like me.
The voice came again.
“Open the window.”
Lena backed away.
“Rowan?”
The moment she spoke, the temperature in the room dropped.
Something moved behind the curtains.
Slowly, Lena pulled them aside.
Rowan Blackwood stood outside her window.
His dark hair was wet, and his charcoal coat clung to his shoulders. His face was pale beneath the moonlight.
But something was wrong.
Terribly wrong.
“Lena,” he whispered. “Let me in.”
She stared into his eyes.
They were completely black.
No gray.
No visible pupils.
Just endless, empty darkness.
Lena stumbled backward.
The thing wearing Rowan's face smiled.
It was a smile Rowan had never given her.
“Do you remember me now?” it asked.
Behind it, far below the window, a little girl in a red scarf stood beside Lena's grave.
The girl raised one hand.
Then she pointed toward the lake.
The creature outside tapped the glass.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
And from somewhere beneath the house, Lena heard her own voice whisper:
“Don't let him in.”
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