"You killed him," I said, my voice low and shaking as I spun to look at Lucas. "You killed him!"

"I didn't do shit," Lucas shot back. "He asked for it when he thought he could take my spot."

"He asked to be drowned?" I yelled, and I walked over to him. I gave him a pathetic hit across his face, and he barely turned, grabbing the cheek I had just struck.

He laughed in disbelief, readjusting his jaw. "Yes, he did. And so did you."

The moon was rising over the trees. It was dark. No one would hear me.

I looked to Chris for help, and he was already on his feet. But as he moved to tackle Lucas, I watched as he phased straight through him, stumbling out of his other side.

My throat was grabbed, hard, and I gawked at the sudden lack of oxygen. He lifted me off my feet with ease, and I beat my hands against his strong grip.

"My parents sent me here, to the middle of nowhere, and expected me to change," he said as he carried me over to the ice. My lungs screamed as air couldn't reach them, and I continued to pathetically beat his hands. "And I did. I met my friends. And then I get sent away for one month, and your friend Chris ruined everything. He took my bunk. He tried to insert himself into a life that wasn't for him," he hissed, venom in his words. I looked into his eyes. "And I knew no one would find him there, not when the threat of the storm closed in. It would take months for anybody to reach up here."

"I don't know what to do," Chris said, panicking behind Lucas. "What the hell do I do? I can't-I can't do anything,"

Black spots danced in my vision as I heard Lucas take the first fateful step onto the ice. It popped under his weight. Terror rose inside me and I beat his hands more frantically, but to no avail.

He suddenly dropped me, and I immediately gasped for air, coughing. The ice splintered hard on my sudden impact.

"I told him to twirl like a ballerina in the middle of the lake," Lucas said. "But he refused. Complained the ice was too weak. I was just trying to show him the ice was strong enough," Lucas said in a sarcastic tone. "And he fell in. Didn't come out."

"You're sick," I coughed. Looking at the ice below me, my blood thrummed in my veins. I remembered Aspen's look of terror, seconds before she went under, just a yard away from here.

"No, I'm smart. I wanted to protect the only thing I had ever had, so I simply removed the threat," he shrugged, and as I tried to push myself to my feet, he kicked me in the stomach.

"I want you to spin in the middle like a ballerina," he chided, a sick smile on his face.

I shook my head, and another kick landed on my stomach, causing me to recoil and gag. The ice cracked and spiderwebbed under my weight. "How am I a threat?" I spit, red blood now on the ice.

"Well, you know everything. Can't have that, now, can we?" He kicked again, and I groaned, landing on my back. The ice cracked farther.

"I won't tell anyone," I coughed, clutching onto my stomach. "I swear. You can keep staying here and you'll never hear from me again."

"Oh, I know I won't hear from you again," he laughed. "Do it. Or I'll make you do it."

I looked over to Chris, who was sitting in a ball, his head covered by his hands. And just above him, the butterflies were dancing.

Death had been following me all along. But it wasn't for me.

It was for Chris.

I look back up at Lucas through my webs of dark hair, and he towers over my crouched figure. "You gonna do it? Or do I have to do it for you?"

I try to push myself to my feet, but shooting pain has me stumbling back down. I slip on the ice, and my head cracks against it. My vision goes dark for a moment before it comes back.

"I'll do it," I choke as he lifts his leg to kick me again. "I'll do it."

He smiles sinisterly and puts his leg down, crossing his arms in wait. I don't have the strength to stand, so I pull myself forward with my hands. The taste of copper is heavy in my mouth, and I spit, grimacing at the flavor.

I've barely pulled myself in a yard before my arms give out. I lay with my face against the freezing ice, snow flurrying around me. Everything is wrong.

My muscles burn and my body feels too heavy to move. I choke out a sob, trying to keep going, but I can't. Black is spotting in my vision. I was going to die.

I feel a sudden strong grip on my ankles and I yelp as I'm pushed forward, spiraling over the top of the ice. It's too thin now, and I can see the thick cracks below me.

"Chris—" I start, pushing myself up, but it's too late. The ice breaks under me, and I can't stop myself from slipping under.

The icy water surrounds me immediately, grabbing onto everything it can to help take me farther down. My clothes are too heavy, my shoes are too heavy, my own body is too heavy. I look up at the stars, my fingers reaching up to them. The remaining air is swept from my lungs, and I try to kick my legs, but they're too tired under me. The heaviness of my clothes drags me down, down, down.

You're a Shade woman. Some of us don't get our power until the day that they die.

It's a struggle to keep my eyes open, my lungs screaming and the cold scorches my skin.

I'm a Shade woman, I think defiantly. Let me live through this nightmare. I am a Shade woman and my bloodline will not end with me.

Light suddenly bursts around me, and I look to see my hair glowing a bright white in the lake. It's illuminating all around me, and I look to my hands, which have a dimmer glow to them.

I am in my bed. The storm hasn't hit. It was all a bad dream.

My head spins and my vision slips, but this time I allow myself to tumble into it, my eyes shutting finally.

It was all a bad dream.

-

Chris was turning 13 when the accident happened. He had no living family except for his uncle, who wanted nothing to do with him.
"Sit in your room and be quiet and we'll be just fine," he had told Chris when he showed up at his door. And, for about four years, Chris did just that. He ignored the people who called him a murderer in his classes and would spend his time with a sketchbook rather than other people. He left the house silently in the mornings, his uncle passed out drunk on the couch, and came back to the house silently, slipping downstairs for the rest of his day.
He got a job at the corner store the day he turned 14 making minimum wage. He worked every day after school, and all day every weekend, just to put food on his own plate. Eventually he bought a gym membership and put himself to work, it being the only thing that gave him a moment's release from the evil around him.
When he was 17, a boy in the bathroom approached him and grabbed his collar, hard. "You got any cash?" The boy asked.
"No," Chris had lied, and the boy grabbed Chris' wallet out of his back pocket and flapped it in his face.
"You got hundreds in here," the boy commented as he opened it, flipping through the bills. Chris grit his teeth as he made eye contact with the kid. "You planning on going somewhere?"
The events that ensued were less of a fight and more of a beat-down, with Chris on top, hitting the boy's face so hard he was nearly unrecognizable by the time he was done. Another boy heard the commotion and grabbed the nearest teacher, and Chris was quickly expelled. The taunts of 'murdered' and 'killer' quickly returned as the boy was hospitalized.
Chris's uncle grabbed him by the throat as they stepped through the door of his small house. "I told you when you came here, boy, stay quiet and we'll have no problems. Now look at what you've done. Go pack your shit."
Chris did just that, without a word. He figured his uncle was kicking him out, and he knew he had enough money to last a couple months bouncing in and out of motels.
Instead, when Chris got downstairs, he was informed he would be staying at a correctional center until he turned 18, and then his uncle never wanted to see his face again.
He pleaded with him not to take him, but running away was already impossible. He was dragged to the camp. These boys had known each other for months.
He was already an outcast.
But with time, Chris made friends with the boys he bunked with. Most nights they would stay up talking about their past while Chris listened.
He never got close with any of them, really. He just liked having the company.
He only had 9 more months before he was free in the world, and all he had to do was survive.