I turned 12 that summer.

I'm not sure why I keep coming back.

I'd always been afraid of the water. Oceans were off the table, rivers were out, and even suspiciously huge puddles after a rainstorm were on my "do not enter" list. Lakes, on the other hand, were the worst.

It made no difference whether they were man-made or natural. It made no difference in terms of size or depth. All I knew was that something was amiss as I peered out over the sparkling lake, the reflection of a gloomy day drifting across its surface, trying to lure me under. Lakes posed such a profound threat that they curdled in my stomach and sank into my bones like cancer.

My family possessed a lake house, which was unfortunate for me. Part of me wondered if they did it to spite me; I was an accident, born far later than my parents planned to continue having children. My siblings were all older and bossier, taunting their younger sister, who wailed when they tossed her toward the water's edge. My bigger brother would take me into the lapping waves created by pontoons and jet skis, his enormous hand wrapping around my little arms and dragging me down until all I could feel was like water in my lungs. My mother would shout half-heartedly from the lawn chairs on the terrace until he stopped.

Every summer, we returned for two weeks at a time. I'd try to plan a sleepaway camp or a bizarre flu-like ailment that would keep me bedridden for those weeks. But, during those unfortunate, sticky hot summers when I couldn't find a way out, I was plagued with 14 days of hearing the lake move outside my bedroom window.

In my slumber, it sang to me. I'll never forget the terror and panic that tore up my spine as I sat there in bed, sleeplessness gnawing at my heels, watching the river glittering in the moonlight. It was watching me back. I'm sure it did. I had no idea that anything else was keeping an eye on me.

The summer of my twelfth year came on strong winds, carrying my family in our enormous minivan crammed with bags and irritated teens. The cabin was just as we had left it: ancient and reeking of pine sol. When I came in, my nose wrinkled, and I ignored the pit in my stomach as I made my way to the room I shared with my two sisters. My name was called by the day bed against the far wall, and I soon fell asleep till supper.

After lunch, my siblings and parents split out into groups to play board games or smash playing cards on a table, the hum of the ceiling fan lifting their tempers and body smells from the long journey. It was all making me sick, so I went outside into the dark nighttime.

And then she appeared. The lake sparkled in the darkness, all-encompassing and engulfing, obliterating my field of vision until she was all I could see. As I sat on a chair, the wind picked up, the trees bashing into each other as though in a fistfight. I shuddered against the air as I watched the water crawl up to me, then withdraw again, putting my terror to the test.

The movement in the water drew my attention.

I leaned forward, ignoring the hairs on the back of my neck that were rising. It wasn't uncommon for canoers to navigate the waterways at night. This movement, however, had risen up from beneath the water rather than gliding on top. Maybe a late-night swimmer?

Then she showed up. The lake glistened in the darkness, all-encompassing and enveloping, obliterating my range of view until she was all that remained. The wind increased up while I sat on a chair, the trees slamming against each other as though in a fistfight. I shuddered against the air as I saw the water creep up to me, then back away, putting my fear to the test.

My attention was drawn to the movement in the water.

I leaned forward, ignoring the growing hairs on the back of my neck. Canoers frequently navigated the rivers at night. This movement, on the other hand, had emerged from beneath the water rather than gliding on top. Perhaps a late-night swim?

My sister shouted from her card game. "Why not send her home right now?" She'll ruin the vacation for the rest of us since she's so cranky." My face became hot as a result of my siblings' response laughter.

My father cast a critical glance around the home. "You're probably seeing things, Sammy." "It's been a long day for all of us."

"I mean, maybe, but what if I'm not mistaken and I actually saw something?" I could feel my brow furrowing. They didn't believe me.

"Perhaps it's Jenna Barnes," my brother joked, crossing his arms across his chest. "We knew she'd come after you one day, Sam."

"Mason, please don't bring up that heinous story again." "I'm sick and tired of you turning a terrible event into a way to ridicule your sister," my mother remarked, folding her cards across the table while staring at my brother. "That family is still grieving over her, and you should be more courteous."

The Barnes family down the road was "that family." Jenna, their 11-year-old daughter, perished tragically in the water roughly ten years ago. Search and Rescue was unable to locate her corpse, and rumors spread across the town at the time. Everyone was reporting sightings of the girl, driving the local police department to worry because they didn't have a large enough staff to attend to every call. The girl became a local legend, believing that she now haunted the lake, waiting for unsuspecting people to swim over her decomposing corpse and be pulled under. Mason has taunted me about it ever since.

Personally, I couldn't understand how any of them came near the water knowing there was a dead corpse somewhere in it. But her narrative sprang to me when I saw the arm breach the surface of the water. Maybe I was just sleepy, as my father said, and the narrative was replaying in my head like it did every year.

"It was probably nothing," I mumbled, examining the lake again before returning to the home. My father and brother came in after me, closing the glass sliding door behind them. "I'm going to bed now."

As I made my way back to my room, no one said goodnight. I dreamed of deep shadows and smooth, water-bloated skin that night. Still, the water beckoned from outside my window.

The trip progressed as normal; my family spent their whole days outside, sitting in lawn chairs or splashing in the water off the dock's edge. I stayed inside with a good book or sat out on the porch, as far away from the river as possible. The arm, or any more limbs for that matter, never appeared again, but Mason didn't let me forget my previous assertion. When I was wearing headphones, he'd come around behind me and seize my ankle, saying "Jenna's got you!" as I screamed. It wore him out quickly, but he still found it amusing.

I'd nearly made it to the end of the two weeks, a few shades tanner and a lot grumpier, but the silver lining of Friday shimmered on the horizon, and I clutched it like a promise. I knew I could make it there in two days since it was just two days away. As I groused to her about the humidity, the lake hadn't yet eaten me whole, and my buddy had already called with details of a camp for next year.

On Wednesday, there was such a heatwave that my entire family stayed indoors. I was certain that I had never been happier in my life. The sweltering temperature nibbled at all of our moods to the point that we were shouting at each other and shutting doors to keep others out. My sisters locked themselves in our room, keeping me out and leaving me to cope with whatever was in the living room. I sat on the couch with a book, relishing the solitude as my family retreated to separate rooms for a change. That is until Mason reappeared as the sunset.

He scowled at my book's cover. "It's ridiculous how many romance novels you read. As if any guy will ever be that interested in you."

I took a deep breath and resolved to ignore him this time. And he was eager to irritate me.

He snatched the book from my grasp and hurled it across the room, producing a gratifying thump on the far wall.

“Hey!” I shrieked, leaping off the sofa, only to be pushed over again. "You're so obnoxious, Mason!" "Go annoy someone else!"

"Why would I do anything like that when I have you?" He wrenched my arm till it screamed out in the socket. I let out a cry and flung my head back, a tremendous crunch colliding with his nose.

“OW!” As blood trickled between his fingers, he fell back, grasping his face. I dashed out of the room, taking the opportunity to flee as I made my way outside and down the back porch stairs. As I rushed across the backyard, the heat crashed into me like a freight train, and I began to sweat immediately. This evening, night had fallen rapidly, with crickets and cicadas singing as I made my way to the water's edge. My terror of my brother overcame my anxiety of the water, and I skidded to a halt at the first indication of the waves.

I could only imagine what my brother was telling my family as he yelled from the home, loud and angry. I glanced away from the lake and returned my gaze to the illuminated windows, the family room now crammed with people tending to Mason. My mother was pushing his head back and wiping his face, her own distorted with fury and anxiety.

I took a step back, only to come into contact with something substantial. Something dripping.

I turned around to see a girl, her blonde, sopping wet hair sticking to her bloated face as she grinned at me. As I turned, her icy fingers curled around my arm, and her hold felt mushy on my flesh. The world came to a halt when I recognized Jenna Barnes, here in person after all these years. A horrifying, shrill sound enveloped us, rebounding off the water's surface and increasing in intensity until I realized it was me screaming. The sound came to me as though I were already submerged.

Jenna ignored me as she drew me back towards the lake. I shouted even louder, certain that my parents would rush over to see me wrestling with a dead girl, her grasp unnaturally tight as I struggled with all my weight against her pull. Her swimming suit was uncomfortably tight against her flesh since her body had bloated with water over the years, yet she walked with me, knees bent outwards, those dead, blue eyes fixated on my face.

She never stopped smiling, even as she pulled my head under the water, I recollect afterward.

Her hold on me loosened as soon as the water flooded my lips. I kicked off the lake's bottom, gasping for oxygen as I reached the surface. Panic gripped my body, and I swam frantically back to shore, collapsing onto the mud and curled in on myself as I trembled violently. I'm not sure how long I lay there or why my family didn't come and get me as soon as they noticed me. They were probably still engaged with Mason in the living room.

My legs were weak from the swim, so I struggled to my feet and slid up the slope to the house. I crept up the stairs, bracing myself for the tongue lashing I was about to endure. I realized I didn't care about nearly dying at the hands of a female who had been dead virtually my whole life.

They'd never believe it if I told them.

As I climbed to the top of the deck, I noticed that the lights in the house were turned out. Had they all fallen asleep again? That would be similar to them neglecting me for so long that I nearly drowned without their knowledge. As I yanked on the sliding door, I huffed. It was shut. They had barred me from entering?

My nerves were jangling. Perhaps they were more enraged than I had imagined. Mason's nose was broken by me. Was that a fair penalty for what happened? They have to have recognized that was a mistake. I shuddered as I down the steps, my damp garments clinging to my skin in the chilly air. The heat of the day appeared to have faded as fast as the sun had.

I pushed my way through the long grass—my father desperately needed to mow the lawn—and walked around the side of the house to the front door. The walkway up to the front of the house was strewn with a cigarette and broken beer cans, creating a veritable jungle of weeds and overgrown plants. A "For Sale" sign hung limply at a 45-degree angle in front of the house.

“What?” As I talked, my breath fogged in the frigid air in front of me. Mason had to have planned this sophisticated hoax. How had he persuaded his entire family to join in?

No, the weeds would not have grown so quickly. Where would they have gotten a sign to put up? Fear swelled in the pit of my stomach, black and greasy, as movement caught the corner of my eye. A scrap of paper, flapping in the wind and clinging to the entrance door. I made my way over to the door, taking care not to step in the muck, and read the sign.

It was for a youngster who had gone missing. From the paper, a sweet-faced girl grinned up at me, her description written underneath her. She'd been gone for five years, and the faded and sun-damaged page reflected that. Samantha Lawrence was written in large characters at the top of the page.

Me.

The river still beckons to me, but this time it's in murmurs that reverberate through the woods. I'm no longer frightened to play in her waters. I now have pals who keep me company, as well as other girls who no one recalls. Jenna also keeps me company.

I'm sitting on my grandfather's old pier. I swim in its shadows on occasion. I've been here for years with no one ever finding me.

I'm not sure why I keep coming back.