You do not recognize the bodies in the water
They weren't looking. They weren't looking. They. Were not. Looking.
Sawyer put their hood up and pulled the drawstring taught, blocking out their peripheral vision.
There was no lake, there as no fence, and there were certainly no signs expressing how dangerous the lake-- which was not there-- was to the public. If they ignored it, if they held their breath as they passed, if they just walked a little faster, maybe it really would not be there. They even brought their hand up to the side of their face, like a horse blinder, just to be sure they wouldn't be tempted to look through the harsh metal lattice at the body of water beyond.
Not looking. I am not looking.
But refusing to acknowledge the lake didn't stop the whispers from floating by on the cold, damp breeze. Their heart stopped dead in their chest when they realized what the sound was, only to start thudding nearly triple time a moment later. Forcing themself to keep moving proved more and more difficult as the seconds slowly ticked on.
Whatever was in that lake, it-- no, they. There were so many voices-- needed their help. Why would no one listen? Why was nobody helping?
It wasn't until their fingers brushed the cool wire that Sawyer realized they were standing at the fence. Something was moving in the lake.
They squeezed their eyes shut, trying to will their fingers to release their death grip. They wanted to cry. They wanted to vomit. They wanted to get the hell away from there, and as they raised a foot to begin scaling the fence, their mind screamed at them to back away instead. Through the roar of whispering voices, they could distantly make out the sound of running footsteps, a single, much louder voice yelling something indistinct--
And then they were on the ground.
When they opened their eyes, they were back in their bed. Their vision was blurry, but they could make out that it was dark, and their body ached like they'd been tackled by an entire rugby team. The room felt like it was spinning.
Were they... hungover? But they hadn't been drinking... or... had they? Unless maybe they had a fever... it would explain the body aches...
Letting out a groan, they pulled the blankets over their head and rolled over. They could not afford to call out sick! Maybe they could sleep it off? Their brain was already a bit foggy, and it wasn't long before they'd sunken into an uneasy slumber.
Never mind that they were still in their day clothes, streaked with grass stains and dried mud that they would be none too pleased to discover in the morning.
