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AS SOON AS THE BOAT had disappeared around the bend, the group waving goodbye to their two friends still floating amongst the murky water, Atticus turned towards the girl. She had her stomach facing the harsh sun, her blonde hair fanning around her as it turned an almost dark brown in the cool water. She looked at peace with the world; ethereal in her relaxed state.
"Why did the key say?" Atticus questioned as his eyes traced the length of her suspended body.
"Summer Winds Hotel, room two-two-nine," she recounted with her eyes closed before letting out a sigh. "Is it just me, or do you have a bad feeling about this?"
The girl stopped floating, resorting to lightly kicking her legs beneath the water instead as she moved to face Atticus with a frown.
"Yeah, a little, but what's the worst that could happen?" Atticus answered with a grin, only frowning once realising how serious the girl was speaking. She merely shrugged as she looked towards the reedy side of the marsh, not catching the worried flicker in the boy's eyes. "C'mon, let loose a little. Shake it out," he tried, shimmying his shoulders as best as he could in the water as he raised his brows with a grin. She couldn't help but let out a laugh.
Since she'd swam close enough, he pushed his arms forward in the water with such force that it created a small wave, splashing directly into her stunned face. She let out a gasp of shock before rubbing her eyes, clearing it of any salt water before sending an even bigger splash his way. He ran a hand down his face, trying to wash away the water as he slowly pulled his eyelids open, revealing his playful glare.
"You're dead, Larson." She swam backwards and kicked her feet, splashing water all over his face as she cheerily laughed with her head pointed towards the sun. She heard him groan as he cowered away from the water, the girl swimming further and further away on her back without sparing a glance behind her. It wasn't until she got to the edge of the reedy clearing that she turned around, grimacing after realising she had been faced with a collection of musty rubbish.
She shouldn't have looked closer.
With furrowed brows, she peered in-between the mixture of food wrappers and other plastic throwaways to look into the centre. There, with his body towards the sky like hers was not much earlier, was a dead man.
His skin was white, paler than anyone's Renna had ever seen before. The man had no hair atop his head, all of it being stuck to the bottom of his jawline with a ginger tint to it. The area surrounding his eyes was purple and red, blotchy against his faint skin. His irises were glazed over, Renna could tell, because he was looking right at her.
At first, the girl was frozen - staring at the ghostly man limply floating in the water before her. Her eyes widened as she tried to process the situation, her pupils darting around his parted lips and empty irises with shock. It was only his voice that broke her out of her deep spiral - her never-ending spiral.
