Page 12 of Beneath the Surface

Quinn nodded and kissed her. “Sorry for being a dumb-dumb.”

Emily laughed softly. “You’re forgiven—this time. Just don’t make a habit of it.”

“Scout’s Honor.” Quinn raised two fingers and smiled.

16

When Quinn packed up, ready to head back to the lake, Emily showed some hesitation. Quinn knew she didn’t completely believe his story about the bruises on his face, but he didn’t think she suspected assault either. If she had, she wouldn’t have let him go—even if she had to hogtie him and lock him in a closet.

Early that Saturday morning, while the world was still cloaked in darkness, Quinn loaded the bed of his small, weathered pickup truck with enough supplies to sustain him for a week or two, at the very least. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of dew-soaked earth as he worked, his breath visible in the cool morning air. Returning to the lake felt surreal after a two-week absence, like stepping into the pages of a strange and peculiar dream. Yet, Quinn knew it was all too real. Every moment of it—including the violent destruction of his attackers—was etched into his memory.

Over the past fourteen days, he had avoided thinking too deeply about that part, unsure of how he, as a mere human, was supposed to process such an event. Now, just as then, he felt a cold numbness about their brutal deaths.

Somehow, that lack of emotion didn’t seem like a typical human reaction, even though they had intended to end his life. Despite it all, he felt nothing. He wasn’t afraid of the mysteriousentity that had practically torn them apart right before his eyes. Instead, he felt an overwhelming sense of protection, a profoundsafetyhe hadn’t experienced since he was fourteen years old.

Quinn pushed his thoughts away from that terrifying day five years ago, a day that had etched trauma and pain deep within him. Those feelings had been gradually soothed, even partially healed, by the enigmatic entity in the lake. It could have harmed him, taken what it wanted, and left him even more shattered and traumatized than before. But it hadn't.

It couldn’t have “taken” what it wanted because what it sought was your companionship, affection, and—perhaps most profoundly—your love.

The creature was lonely, marooned in a world that would never understand its kind or even try to. It found a kindred spirit in Quinn—and clung to him. Quinn, with his human mind, couldn't fully comprehend the depth of their connection, but he feared losing it, like a precious thread woven into the fabric of his existence. He was deeply worried about the creature's safety in a world that harbored an instinctive fear of what it couldn't understand—a fear that so easily morphed into brutality.

Quinn left the bustling cityscape behind and ventured toward the majestic mountains that loomed in the distance. The warm, golden rays of the morning sun bathed the landscape in a soft glow by the time he arrived at the secluded spot where he parked his truck. From there, he embarked on the upward trek, the earthy scent of the forest enveloping him, his feet crunching against the gritty dirt path. His backpack felt heavier than usual, but the weight didn’t occupy his thoughts. Instead, his mind was miles ahead, already lingering by the serene lake nestled in the mountains. A riot of butterflies erupted in his stomach and chest, fluttering wildly as if he were about to meet the boy of his dreams.

Although he was fairly sure the entity was a “boy”, if it even adhered to the concept of gender, and had captivated his thoughts and dreams for the past two weeks—this was far from a normal encounter. In fact, there was nothing ordinary or common about this mysteriousattractionat all.

Quinn pondered whether he had lost his grip on reality after the harrowing experience when two men nearly beat him to death, only for him to witness them being gruesomely torn apart from the inside out. Could any normal person endure such a traumatic event and remain sane? And after all that, getfuckedby the very creature responsible for the carnage—andenjoyit? How could any of that possibly be consideredsane?

Would he reach the lake only to discover that the creature was nothing more than a figment of his imagination? The mind, in its complexity, could weave intricate illusions, especially when gripped by the throes of trauma. Perhaps the men had indeed beaten him, but then abandoned him on the cold shore, and walked away without any intention of ending his life. Maybe everything else—the creature, the connection, the brutal revenge—had been a bizarre fever dream spun from the depths of his unconsciousness.

Quinn's steps faltered, his pace slowing as tendrils of doubt seeped into his thoughts like a chilling fog. Though it seemed bizarre, he longed for the encounter to be real. He needed that connection to be more than just a fleeting fantasy. He could still feel the entity's consciousness intertwined with his own, like an invisible thread binding their fates. But what if it was all just his imagination, creating something that wasn’t truly there? After all, the mind was a powerful force, capable of conjuring entire worlds within its depths.

Quinn quickened his steps, almost running along the winding trail, fueled by a sudden surge of panic. What if, when he reached the lake's edge, all he found was the calm surface ofwater, with no mysterious presence beneath the lakebed longing for his return, craving his touch and companionship?

As Quinn finally broke free from the thick canopy of trees onto the sunlit grassy knoll, his heart pounded wildly against his ribcage, each beat echoing in his ears. His chest felt tight, each breath a laborious effort as he struggled to draw in air. With frantic hands, he shrugged off the heavy burden of his backpack, letting it drop unceremoniously onto the grass, and sprinted toward the shoreline, collapsing onto his knees in desperation.

“I’m here…” he whispered, his voice trembling violently, barely audible above the gentle rustle of the breeze. “I came back.” His throat tightened into a painful knot, almost choking him and making it hard to breathe as tears stung his eyes. The cold water lapped softly at his knees, chilling him through his jeans, which darkened as they absorbed the moisture. Quinn held his breath, eyes fixed on the lake's surface, which lay still and undisturbed like a polished mirror, reflecting the vibrant blue sky and the dazzling sunlight. The water remained placid, its glassy surface unbroken by any ripples of acknowledgment or greeting.

Quinn thought with despair, I am crazy,and let himself fall back onto his butt with a dull thud. He drew up his legs, wrapping his arms tightly around them, and buried his face against his wet knees, his boots partly submerged in the chill water that lapped gently around him.It was all in my head… he was never here.

Quinn was only half aware that this was the first time he’d instinctively referred to the entity as “he” instead of “it.” Somehow, assigning it a gender made the connection feel more intimate, and Quinn felt a pang of realization about how much the creature truly meant to him. How deeply he needed that experience to be a real, tangible moment in his life.

Quinn trembled, his whole body shivering with emotion as he pressed his face into his arms, tears escaping and seeping through his lashes. “Please be real,” he whispered, his voice fractured by broken sobs. “Please don’t leave me here alone… please… I…” His breath hitched and shuddered wetly, echoing in the stillness around him. “… I need you… I need you…”

The water rippled softly around Quinn’s feet, each movement sending small waves cascading outward as a gentle pressure built in his temples. The sensation grew gradually, like a tide coming in, before bursting into a thousand tiny starbursts that danced behind his eyes, illuminating his vision with flashes of light. Quinn inhaled sharply, his breath shaky and filled with surprise, as he lifted his head and felt a comforting warmth envelop his consciousness and spread through his body like a soothing wave.

In the shallow water, a mesmerizing swirl of sinuous, translucent filaments fluttered around his boots like ethereal ribbons.

Overcome with emotion, Quinn choked on a sob and grinned widely, hastily removing his boots. Plunging his bare feet into the cool water, he felt tiny, eager tendrils weave through his toes, coiling around his feet with a rhythmic squeeze and pulse.

A radiant light of pure joy ignited within his mind, an overwhelming euphoria like that of a child on Christmas morning, pouring into him through the entity’s consciousness.

Had the creature feared Quinn wouldn’t return? Did it experience the passage of time differently than the human mind, stretching his absence into something much longer than two weeks?

I’m here.Quinn reached out with his thoughts, projecting them with the strength of his resolve.I won’t leave you. I’m going to protect you.

The tendrils quivered delicately against his feet, their tiny, translucent “heads” shyly peeking through the shimmering surface of the water. Each tendril glistened in the sunlight, casting subtle ripples across the otherwise still pond.

Quinn smiled, his heart swelling with deep affection, and he leaned forward, slipping his hands into the cold water. The filaments responded instantly, entwining around his fingers and hands with a graceful, serpentine motion, their silky touch sliding over his skin. They gripped him with an almost desperate delight, tugging gently with a playful touch that hinted at a longing connection, slipping in and out of his fingers while tenderly sucking the soft skin between his digits.

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