The Silent Waters

by Brittainy Cherry

  That’s what true love meant to me.

  True love meant you could laugh at mistakes.

  True love meant you could whisper secrets.

  True love meant you never had to dance alone.

  The next morning, I woke ready for the day ahead of me. “Today is the rehearsal for my wedding day!” I shouted, stretching my arms out and jumping up and down on my bed. “It’s my rehearsal! It’s my rehearsal day!”

  Calvin stumbled into my bedroom, rubbing his hands over his sleepy eyes. “Gosh, Maggie, can you shut it? It’s three in the morning,” he griped, yawning.

  I smirked. “It doesn’t matter, because it’s my rehearsal day, Calvin!”

  He grumbled some more and called me a name, but I didn’t care.

  Daddy stumbled into my room almost exactly how my brother had, rubbing his eyes and yawning. He walked over to my bed, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, forcing him to hold me up in the air.

  “Daddy, guess what? Guess what?” I shrieked with excitement.

  “Let me guess, you’re having your wedding rehearsal today?”

  I nodded quickly and laughed as he tiredly spun me around in a circle. “How did you know?”

  He smirked. “Lucky guess.”

  “Can you make her stop yelling so we can go back to bed?” Calvin groaned. “It’s not even a real wedding!”

  I gasped and went to sass him for his lies, but Daddy stopped me, whispering, “Someone’s not a morning person. How about we all go back to bed for a few hours, and then I’ll cook you a day-before-wedding-day breakfast?”

  “Waffles with strawberries and whipped cream?”

  “And sprinkles!” He smiled.

  Calvin stomped his grumpy butt back to his room, and Daddy laid me back down on my bed, giving me Eskimo kisses. “Try to get a few more hours of sleep, okay, honey? You have a big day ahead of you.” He tucked me in, the same way he did each and every night.

  “Okay.”

  “And, Maggie May?”

  “Yes?”

  “The world keeps spinning because your heartbeats exist.” He’d said those words to me every single day, as long as I could remember.

  When he left the room, he shut the light off, and I lay in bed, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark star stickers on my ceiling, smiling wide with my hands over my chest, where I felt each and every one of my heartbeats that kept the world spinning.

  I knew I was supposed to be sleeping, but I couldn’t, because it was the day before my wedding day, and I was about to marry a boy who didn’t know it yet, but was going to be my best friend once we made it to our ten-year anniversary.

  He’d probably need those ten years to realize he did indeed want to be my husband.

  And we’d obviously live happily ever after.

  When morning came, I was the first one up, waiting downstairs for my waffles. Daddy and Mama were still sleeping when I creeped into their bedroom.

  “Hey, you guys awake?” I whispered. Nothing. Poking Daddy in the cheek, I repeated myself. “Hey, you awake, Daddy?”

  “Maggie May, it’s not time to get up yet,” he murmured.

  “But, you said you’d make waffles!” I whined.

  “In the morning.”

  “It is morning,” I groaned and walked over to their windows, pulling back the drapes. “See? The sun is out.”

  “The sun is a liar, that’s why God created curtains,” Mama yawned, rolling on her side. She opened her eyes and glanced at the clock on her nightstand. “Five-thirty a.m. on a Saturday is not the morning, Maggie May. Now get back to bed, and we’ll come wake you up.”

  They didn’t wake me until eight in the morning—but surprisingly I was already up. The day went slower than I wanted it to, and my parents made me go watch Cheryl’s dance recital, which lasted longer than it should’ve, but once we got home, I was ready to head out to Brooks.

  Mama told me I could only go off to play if I took Cheryl with me, but even after I apologized to her, she still didn’t want to be my maid of honor, so I had to sneak off on my own to go meet Brooks in the woods. I skipped down the streets of the neighborhood, taking in the perfectly mowed lawns and perfectly planted flowers. Harper County was a small town where everyone knew everyone, so it wouldn’t be long before Mama got a call saying so-and-so saw me skipping down the street alone. Therefore, I had to be quick.

  Just not too quick, because I always had to stop on the corner of my block, look both ways down the road, then cross the street to Mrs. Boone’s house. Mrs. Boone’s lawn was the complete opposite of everyone else’s. She had flowers growing everywhere, with no kind of order at all. Yellow roses, lavender, poppies—you named a flower, and it was probably growing in Mrs. Boone’s yard.

  Nobody ever bothered stopping by the old lady’s house. Everyone called her rude, grumpy, and standoffish. Mostly she sat alone on her front porch, swaying back and forth in her rocker, mumbling to herself as her cat, Muffins, rolled around in the yard.

  My favorite time of the day was when Mrs. Boone went inside to make herself some tea. She drank more tea than anyone I’d ever seen. One day Cheryl and I watched her from across the street and were blown away by the number of times Mrs. Boone left her rocker and came back with a cup of tea.

  Whenever she disappeared into the house, I’d sneak into her front yard, which was guarded by a white picket fence. I’d smell as many flowers as possible then roll around in the high grass with Muffins.

  That night, I hurried into her yard, because I didn’t have much time before I had to meet Brooks.

  “Hey! Eric’s girl! Get off my lawn!” Mrs. Boone hissed, pushing open her screen door with a cup of tea. I’d told her my name hundreds of times, but she refused to ever acknowledge it.

  “Maggie,” I said, standing up and holding a purring Muffins in my hands. “My name is Maggie, Mrs. Boone. Maggie.” I said it slow and loud the second time, to make sure she understood.

  “Oh, I know who you are, you little rascal! Now get away from my flowers and my cat!”

  I ignored her. “Gee, Mrs. B, you got the prettiest flowers I’ve ever seen in your yard. Did you know that? My name’s Maggie, again, just in case you forgot it. You can call me Maggie May if ya want. A lot of my family calls me that. Speaking of family and flowers, I thought I might ask…do you think I can borrow some of your flowers for my wedding tomorrow?”

  “Wedding?” she huffed, narrowing her eyes, which were covered in too much makeup. Mama always said less was more. Mrs. Boone obviously said the opposite of that. “Aren’t you a bit young to be getting married?”

  “Love knows no age, Mrs. B.” I reached for a poppy, picked it, and placed it behind my ear as Muffins leaped out of my arms.

  “Pick one more flower and you’ll never be able to pick another thing in your life,” she warned, giving me a grumpy frown.

  “I’ll even toss in some ice cream for the flowers, Mrs. B! I can pick them all now, so you won’t have to worry about—”

  “Leave!” she shouted, her voice sending chills down my spine. I stood up straight, my eyes wide with panic and stepped backward.

  “Okay. Well, if you change your mind, I’ll be passing by tomorrow, too, before the wedding. You can even come if you want. It will be between the two twisty trees in the woods at five tomorrow night. Mama’s making cake, and Dad’s making punch. You can bring Muffins, too! Bye, Mrs. B! See you tomorrow!”

  She grumbled some more as I hurried out of her yard, picking two yellow roses to take with me. I skipped along and waved goodbye to the grumpy lady who probably wasn’t really grumpy, but just liked to live up to the rumors her neighbors made up.

  The closer I got to the twisted trees, the more my heartbeat increased. Each breath was filled with more and more urgency, more and more thrill. Each step was a step closer to Brooks. It’s happening. It was finally coming true. I was going to get what Daddy and Mama had. I was going to be his, and he was going to be mine.

  This time is fore
ver.

  He was late.

  I knew he had clocks in his house, and I knew he was capable of telling time, yet still, Brooks was late.

  How could we live happily ever after if he didn’t show up on time?

  My eyes glanced at my Barbie watch, and my chest tightened.

  7:16 p.m.

  He was late. I’d told him seven, and he was sixteen minutes late.

  Where was he? Was he standing me up? No, he wouldn’t.

  Did he not love me the way I loved him? No, he did.

  My heart hurt as I walked through the woods, searching the forest for a dumb boy with beautiful eyes. “He’s just by the wrong two twisty trees,” I assured myself, listening to the crunching leaves under my steps. “He’s coming,” I swore, watching the bright sky grow darker and darker.

  I was never allowed to be out past the streetlights turning on, but I knew it’d be okay, because I was getting married the next day, and I wouldn’t be alone in the darkness, because Brooks was coming to join me.

  7:32 p.m.

  Which direction had I come from? And where had the two twisty trees gone? My heart was beating faster and my palms were sweaty as I stomped through the forest. “Brooks,” I shouted, more nervous because I’d lost my way. He’d find me, though. He’s coming. I kept walking. Was I going deeper into the forest? Farther from the trees? How could I tell? I couldn’t find my way. Where were the trees?

  7:59 p.m.

  The water.

  I’d find the water where the boys went fishing. Maybe that’s where Brooks would be. But which way was the water? I started running. I ran and ran, hoping I’d see the water swaying back and forth, reminding me of where I was and how I’d get home, or how I’d find Brooks. Maybe he had gotten lost, too. Maybe he was alone, and scared, and sweaty. Maybe he was searching for me, too. I had to find him, because I knew I’d be okay when we were standing near one another.

  8:13 p.m.

  The water.

  I found it.

  I found the ripples, and stones, and calm sounds.

  I found the water, and I found him.

  “Don’t walk away, please, Julia. Listen to me.”

  Brooks?

  No.

  Not him.

  Someone else, who wasn’t alone. A man was there with another. A woman. She kept telling him no, saying she couldn’t be with him anymore, and he didn’t like that.

  “We have a life together, Julia. We have a family.”

  “Will you listen? I don’t want to be with you anymore.”

  “Is this about that guy from work?”

  The woman rolled her eyes. “Don’t start this again. This is what I’m talking about. You have all these anger issues. I can’t keep our son around that. We can’t keep doing this.”

  He raked his hands through his hair. “You’re fucking him, aren’t you? You’re fucking the guy from work.” Before she could respond, he grew more and more upset, his chest puffing in and out.

  The man was someone who made my breaths harder to swallow, and my fear more fearful. I had been less afraid when I’d stood alone by the wrong twisty trees. I should’ve stayed by the wrong trees.

  He screamed at her, his voice cracking. “You fucking whore!” he shouted, slapping her hard across the face. She stumbled backward and whimpered, her hand flying to her cheek. “I gave you everything. We had a life together. I just took over the business. We were getting on our feet. What about our son? What about our family?” He slapped her again and again. “We had a life!” He shoved her to the ground and his eyes popped out of his head, as if he was crazy—disturbed.

  My throat tightened as my eyes stared across the way, where the man who reminded me of the dark sky wrapped his hands around the woman’s neck. “You can’t leave me,” he said, almost begging her as he choked and shook her. She screamed, clawing at his hands. He shook her. She screamed, trying to gasp for air. He shook her. She screamed, and I felt his hands.

  It felt as if his hands were around me. Choking me. Shaking me. Dragging me.

  My fingers wrapped around my neck and I begged for air, knowing that if I felt like I couldn’t breathe, the woman was hurting even more.

  Then the evil man started dragging her body toward the water.

  In that moment I knew who he was.

  The devil.

  The devil pulled the woman’s body toward the water and shoved her head beneath its waves.

  And I stopped breathing.

  He drowned her.

  He drowned her.

  The devil drowned a woman on the bank of Harper Creek.

  I knew she was dead. She fought back as the devil kept holding her head beneath the water. The devil held her at the edge of the lake and kept shoving her head under the water.

  The woman fought at first, clawing her fingers at him, trying her best to attack the devil. The woman’s body pushed against his, but each time the devil brought the woman’s head back from under the lake, her mouth inhaled and exhaled, choking on water, struggling to breathe. The devil pulled her deeper into the waters, splashing loudly. The water was up to the devil’s neck, and I couldn’t even see the woman anymore.

  “Don’t leave me,” he begged her, pleaded. “Don’t leave me, Julia.”

  I should’ve stopped looking.

  I couldn’t stop looking.

  She was fully submerged, and all I saw was the devil’s darkness.

  He pulled the limp woman from the water, back to the shore, and he wouldn’t stop talking to her. “How could you? How could you do this to us?” He reached for the woman’s left hand and removed the wedding band from her finger. He slid it onto his own finger.

  He killed the woman.

  He killed her.

  I saw it, too—the realization of his actions, him realizing what he had done. He started to shake the woman, her body limp. “Julia,” he whimpered. “Julia, wake up.” He fell to the ground beside her and shook her, trying to bring her back, but he couldn’t. He sobbed over her body. “Please, come back.”

  I stepped backward and broke a branch.

  He looked up.

  He killed that woman, and he was looking at me.

  Don’t look at me.

  My hands clamped up, my mind spun. I stumbled backward, breaking each and every branch my flip-flops hit along the way. My back slammed against the closest tree trunk as the devil’s chocolate brown eyes danced across my body. A petrified look swam in his eyes, and he dropped the lady. “Hey!” he shouted, looking at me. “Hey, what are you doing?” He moved in closer to me.

  His feet dragged my way, his clothing dripping wet.

  Don’t wander off on your own, Maggie May. Do you understand? You mustn’t wander off without your sister.

  Mama’s words kept circling in my mind. He grew closer and closer, and I screeched, turning away from him. I started running as fast as I could, flying through the branches, feeling my heart pounding against my chest.

  His footsteps grew louder, but I couldn’t look back. He was running after me. Closer, closer, closer. Run, Maggie. Faster, faster, faster. Run!

  A sharp yank to my dress sent me backward, the poppy in my hair flying to the forest floor. His fingers were wrapped around my dress and he tossed me to the ground. My breaths weaved in and out and I screamed as he tackled my body, placing all of his weight on top of me, his filthy hands covering my mouth, muting my shouts.

  I kicked and screamed, screamed and kicked. He was going to kill me.

  He’d kill me.

  No, please.

  Tears streamed down my cheeks as I struggled.

  “You weren’t supposed to be here,” he hissed, starting to sob. “You weren’t supposed to see that. It was a mistake. I didn’t mean to…”

  No!

  He placed a hand around my neck, choking me, making it harder and harder to breathe. He cried. He cried so much. He cried and apologized. He apologized for hurting me, apologized for pushing a few fingers into the side of my neck,
making it harder and harder for me to find my next breaths. He told me he loved her, told me love did it to him, to her. He swore he’d never hurt her. He promised he wouldn’t hurt the woman he already killed.

  “You weren’t supposed to be here, but now you are,” he said, lowering his face down to me. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He smelled like tobacco and licorice, and his forearm had a big tattoo of two praying hands with a person’s name beneath it. “How did you get here?” he asked.

  His mouth was inches away from mine, and he shook his head as I parted my mouth to scream for Brooks, praying for him to hear me, to find me. He placed his finger against my mouth, then pushed his lips against his fingers, too, and made a quiet shushing sound.

  “Shh,” he whispered. My eyes were wide with fear. “Please, don’t yell. It was an accident.” He moved his lips to my forehead and pressed his mouth against my skin. “Shh,” he said again. His lips traveled to my earlobe and I felt his mouth touching me before he hissed one last time. “Shh…”

  I lost myself.

  He stole me from myself in that moment.

  I felt dirty.

  I felt used.

  I felt trapped.

  “Maggie May! Where are you?” Brooks hollered, his voice breaking the devil from his thoughts.

  He pushed himself away from me and took off in a sprint.

  I stumbled to stand and didn’t bother to dusk off the dirt, leaves, and sticks tangled all over me. I was wet. His wet clothes had soaked me, and I had wet myself, too. I struggled, but I ran. I ran. I ran as fast as I could toward the sound of Brooks’ voice. The louder his sounds grew, the more my heart raced.