Chapter 30

I was sixteen, sitting on the front step waiting for my best friend, Hannah, to pick me up. It was a relatively warm evening for May and the wind wasn’t blowing, so I didn’t bother with a jacket. Culminations of grey clouds lingered, unmoving, obscuring the moon. The tire swing tied to the oak tree in my front yard was fixed in place.

Through the quiet, I could hear her car approaching. The muffler of her father’s beat-up old Chevy sputtered and roared in warning. I watched as she pulled onto the shoulder, then I crossed the lawn, swung the door open, and lowered myself into the passenger seat.

“Hey.” I reached for my seat-belt buckle, clicking it in place.

Hannah’s left hand was draped over the steering wheel, pastel green nail polish chipped to bits, her nails bitten down to the skin. “It’s the perfect night, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s eerie.”

There weren’t many things to do in our small town, so we made our own fun. We headed down the coast.

“Do you think we’ll see her?” Hannah asked, cocking an eyebrow.

I smiled, hesitantly. “I don’t know. But if we do, I’m going to lose it.”

Darkness was descending as we followed the shoreline to the clearing by the pond. The water was calm and black, reaching for the shadowy headland across the harbour. I stared out the window, wondering what gathered below the surface. My grandfather told me never to play near the water at night. He said that was when the terrifying creatures of the underworld searched for souls to drag down.

“I heard that if you see her, she grabs you by the hair and pulls you into the lake.” I reached over and yanked Hannah’s hair as hard as I could.

“Stop! Stop!” she squealed, giggling. The car swerved into the other lane as her head bobbed. “Grace, let go. If I crash this car, Dad will kill me.”

I released her hair, and we continued to laugh like hyenas. When my laughter died down, Hannah would start again, then I would, too. My face felt tight, as though someone were stretching my skin back. For a second, I thought I may burst into tears, but then I chuckled again.

I wiped my eyes as Hannah slowed the car and came to a complete stop in the middle of the road. She turned off the ignition. When the engine died, it was utterly silent. I focused on my breath, irregular in anticipation.

“Ready?” she asked, her fingers on the headlight switch.

“Ready.”

She slowly flashed the lights, illuminating the strait of empty road and evergreens ahead. We counted along.

Click. “One.”

Click. “Two.”

Click. “Three.”

Hannah turned toward me; her blond hair shone red, reflecting the brake lights. “This is where she drowned her kids, right?”

As I went to answer, I realized I was holding my breath, avoiding the rear-view mirror with my head down. I could hear a dull pulsation in my ears. I exhaled. “I think so.”

I raised my eyes without lifting my head, peeking into the rear-view mirror. A young woman, bloated and bluish-grey, with chapped lips and cracked skin, was sitting in the back seat. Her long black hair was dripping wet, and her brown eyes were fixed on me. She smiled slowly, her lips pressed together as though they were glued shut.

I screamed and my hands shot up, reaching for the door handle. I threw the door open and jumped out, peering in through the window. I glanced over my shoulder at the lake, then up and down the road, straining my eyes for any movement in the distance.

Hannah shot out of the car and ran around to my side. She hopped up and down in place, “What? What? What?”

“Did you see her?” I shrieked, lowering my head through the open door.

“No, are you serious? Where?” Hannah bent to peer into the back seat, brushing against my back.

I jumped, spinning around, “Don’t touch me. Jesus Christ.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

“It was the woman. She was behind you.” I checked the back seat again. “Get back in the car. Get in the car.” I climbed in, swiftly slamming and locking the door. I put my face in my hands and shut my eyes, tugging at the skin on my cheeks.

“Are you sure it was her?” Hannah was back in the driver’s seat, scrambling to start the engine.

“Yes, I’m fucking sure.”

“What did she look like?” she asked, both hands on the wheel.

“She was wet. Her hair and eyes were dark. Then she just smiled at me. It was the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Hannah was silent for a moment. “I can’t believe you saw her.” She glanced at me through the corners of her eyes. “I don’t think anyone has ever actually seen her before.”

My eyes remained fixed on the road, waiting for the woman to reappear. I checked the back again. It was empty. I turned and reached, running my fingers over the seat. It was dry.

The clouds had cleared and the halved moon was high in the sky as we followed the shoreline home. The radio played softly as we drove. I watched the water, wondering what would cause a mother to drown her own baby.

Eventually, Hannah pulled onto the shoulder. The windows of my house were already dark. I reached for the door handle and noticed my hands were shaking.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her eyes wide.

“Yeah.” I nodded. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You’re kind of scaring me.”

“I said I’m fine,” I snapped, pushing open the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

I leapt from my seat and ran the short distance to my house as though I were being chased. I threw open the door, slipped inside, and secured the deadbolt, peeking through the window one last time.

I ran up the stairs two at a time, drifting past the various portraits of naked women that lined the wall. I could feel the murderous mother behind me in the darkness, her brown eyes locked on my head. I stopped outside my parents’ bedroom door—their lights already out—and considered knocking. I could hear my father snoring on the other side of the door, so I continued to my room, holding myself at the elbows.

I crawled into bed and pulled the covers to my neck. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the drowned woman. Her sunken cheekbones and large brown eyes with clumped, wet eyelashes blinking slowly. Staring. Silent.

The longer I lay awake, the more sorry I felt for her. She was trapped. A victim, too, after all.