Page 71 of The Trap by Catherine
Cautiously, she picked her way along the path to the lake, moving slowly but steadily, barefoot, and practically naked and not caring about either of those things.
Sometimes she feared she was turning truly feral.
Other times she had to acknowledge that she already was that.
The forest fell away behind her and she felt rather than saw a big open space ahead. Then she heard it: the lazy lapping of the water. When her eyes adjusted, she could see the starry sky reflected on its surface and then, gradually, the rocks dotted around its shoreline coming into view too.
She was at the lake, finally.
She lowered herself on to one of the rocks and slipped her legs under the now rippling stars, into the cold, liquid black beyond—
She exhaled sharply, loudly, and then regretted it.
But it feltdivine.
And so then she thought,Fuck it.
If she was going to break the rules, she might as well smash them to pieces. Make it worth the punishment. She pushed herself off and plunged her whole body into the lake, sinking until every last part of her was beneath its surface, the water a cooling balm on her skin.
She let herself sink a little lower, into the dark.
Down into the depths of its icy cold.
And then she started to think that the easiest thing to do would be to stay there.
Because she couldn’t live like this and yet, she couldn’t leave. She might find a way tophysicallyleave—maybe—but even then, where was there to go? They were miles from everywhere and a lifetime removed from the Before, the Outside, her Previous. But things were deteriorating here, and she wasn’t sure how much more she could take. Resignation reached out to her like the arms of water nymphs, pulling on her limbs, tugging on her hair...
How easy it would be to let go, to sink, to end this.
But when her lungs began to burn, her body overrode her mind and she started kicking. By the time she broke the surface, gasping, the feeling was gone, the nymphs having retreated to the lake’s depths.
She was swimming, and she was cool, and she was alone. In this place, living like this, they were all things to be grateful for. For the next hour or so she swam and floated and swam some more, feeling languid and loose. Peaceful. Free. She tried not to think of what had led her to this moment or what might come after it, tomorrow. Instead, she clung desperately to the Now, as though it was a lifeguard and she was drowning.
Afterward, she stood with her feet planted in the shifting silt of the shallows before the shore and watched the sky welcome the sun. She should go back, she knew, before her absence was discovered. She should go get water for the others, like they’d asked.
But instead she made her way to a patch of yellow grass on the bank and sat there, cross-legged and dripping, the skin on her fingers pale and wrinkled, mesmerized by the shards of sunlight dancing on the surface of the lake.
A tiredness overtook her, descending like a heavy curtain, a warm weight on her limbs and eyelids demanding the sleep she hadn’t been able to get during the night. She lay down and gave in to it, turning on her side to rest her cheek on her praying hands.
That’s where he found her.
SPOILER ALERT
After Roland left, Lucy collected the contents of her bag and set about locking up the place. She was going to head home and face the music. Or face Chris, at least.She was outside the door, still holding the keys in her hand, when she heard a voice say, “Lucy.”
She turned to find a car parked lengthways across the parking spaces, and a man leaning against the side of it, facing her. There was a streetlight just yards away but it was behind him, and the sky was dark enough now for the amber glow to paint him entirely in shadow.
It occurred to her that he could see her face perfectly well.
“Lucy,” he said again.
She hadn’t seen anyone arrive—but then, she’d gone into the back to set the alarm—and she thought for a second it might be Roland, returned, or not even left yet.
But she didn’t recognize his shape or his voice.
It wasn’t him.
“Can I...?” She squinted into the darkness. “Can I help you?”
