Seven years earlier
I didn’t come to the lake for this.
Running without a purpose. That’s why I came here. And I would’ve kept on running too, except for the violent splashes and thrashing arms.
“Hey.” I stand on the shore and yell, panic edging my voice. I pull off my shoes and toss them aside, walking in a few feet. Water splashes the tops of my calves. I pause, waiting to see if the person will stop when she hears me. I’m desperately hoping she’s just goofing off. The movement doesn’t stop.
I know it’s a girl because of all the hair. It floats on the surface of the water, and when she comes up again, it’s slicked halfway down her head. It’s red, like a flame.
The water is on fire.
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