Chapter 2
MACKENZIE
Camp Blackshear
Blackshear, Georgia
Six Months Later
The shrill buzz of cicadas drilled through the trees. Their clicking scraped against the dusty cabin windows like fingernails.
It was almost eleven p.m., and I still couldn’t sleep. Every creak of the bunk sounded like a footstep.
Shadows crawled up the cabin walls, pooling in the corners, stretching thin like hands reaching for me.
I’d been at Camp Blackshear for two weeks, and I already knew every exit.
The front door stuck if you pulled too hard.
The side door by the laundry room, in case I needed a quick escape.
The path behind the cabins that cut straight to the woods.
I told myself it was just in case. But what was I running from? My Daddy? I still didn’t know.
Everyone said a new town would help. New state, new school, new camp. Like you could drive away from the bad stuff if you went far enough.
But it didn’t matter how far we drove. Some nights, it still felt like the blood was on my hands.
When I got here, I already felt broken in ways I didn’t have words for. I wasn’t really looking for a fresh start. I just wanted the old stuff to stop chasing me.
Sometimes it felt like there were cracks inside me that nobody could see. Like if I moved the wrong way, I might fall apart.
The silence didn’t feel like freedom. It felt like being dropped into the deep end of the lake. My lungs squeezed tight as I closed my eyes, putting my hands over my ears. I could hear the screams even when they weren’t here.
I kicked my feet against the mattress like I could keep myself from floating into the nightmares. My shadows swam underneath me, bumping against my legs. The loneliness chewed at my insides, fluttering against my skin like a moth stuck too close to a candle.
A tiny ping tapped the window. I jerked upright.
Ping.
Ping.
PING.
The last one was loud enough to make me flinch. I sat up too fast and cracked my head on the low wooden beam.
“Ow,” I hissed, rubbing the knot behind my ear. My fingers brushed my scar. The one that reminded me he was always watching.
I carefully peeked through the warped glass. Max stood there in the bushes, freckles dusted across his sunburned face, smiling like we shared a secret.
Max was my first friend here. On day one, a counselor had pushed me toward him. “Mackenzie, this is your camp buddy. You’ll like him.”
“Hi,” I’d said, trying to sound casual. I could be casual. Right? Or did I say, “Hi, I’m Mackenzie. My Daddy is a killer, and I’m in witness protection. Did you know this camp is being watched?”
But I couldn’t say any of that.
“Hi!” He’d grinned and offered a Fruit Roll-Up like it was a peace treaty.
I’d taken it, unrolled the paper, and popped the end of the strawberry tail into my mouth.
His smile was… comforting. There was something about him, about his voice.
It felt familiar in a way that made my chest ache and relax at the same time.
We had nothing in common. He loved baseball, bugs, and country music. I hated Star Wars, and he quoted it daily. But he was funny, and when he laughed, it made me forget the sound of my Daddy’s voice.
When Max looked at me, I was just Mackenzie from Marigold, Georgia. But I still wondered if that other girl—the scared one who’d seen her dad covered in blood more times than she could count—was still hiding inside me.
I looked at Max’s beaming face through the window. He motioned for me to come outside.
I slid into my worn tennis shoes and crept past the sleeping girls, tiptoeing between their beds. Someone snored. Someone mumbled in her sleep. The cabin’s screen door pushed back as I nudged it open, letting out a soft whine that made me hold my breath.
The night smelled sharp. Smoke and citronella bit at my lungs in a way that now felt almost like home.
“Max?” I whispered.
“Right here!” he hissed. Hands clamped down on my shoulders. “Boo!”
I yelped and socked him in the gut.
“OOMPH! Trouble… you just rearranged my organs alphabetically,” he wheezed.
I couldn’t help laughing. He was the only person who called me Trouble. He said it was because I didn’t bring trouble; I was trouble. I hadn’t liked the nickname at first, but it was growing on me.
Our shoes crunched on the rocks as we walked down the gravel path.
Crunch, crunch, crunch.
The black night pooled at the edges of the trees, and I got that crawling feeling that something was following us. I got it a lot in the dark.
Almost like he could sense it, Max handed me a flashlight. The bright beam bit through the darkness.
“Why didn’t you bring yours?” he asked.
“I didn’t know I’d need it.” My voice came out small.
“It’s kayak night. How could you forget?”
But I had forgotten. My brain had been skipping over things lately.
And honestly, I was a little terrified to go out on the water.
We were kayaking to a part of the lake that glowed at night, or so they said. The counselors said it was because of bioluminescent microorganisms, little things called dinoflagellates, that made the water shimmer with this weird, magic-looking glow.
I peeked over at Max. We moved together, our footsteps echoing softly in the stillness. He knew I was scared of the dark, and he stepped closer, like a quiet shadow, always watching, always ready to protect me from something I couldn’t see.
As we walked, a memory from two days ago flashed through my head.
“That’s good,” he’d said, looking over my shoulder while I drew in my journal. Then he’d pointed at a shadow in the trees. “What’s that?”
“That’s my shadow,” I’d told him.
“But you’re in the water.” He was always so matter-of-fact, so literal.
“It’s the one that watches,” I’d admitted.
He’d looked at me, his blue eyes full of questions, but he never pressed.
I’d fingered the scar on the back of my neck, just below my hairline.
“Okay,” he’d said. “But you need to draw me in next time. I’ll be your new shadow.” Then he’d nudged my shoulder with his.
“Come on.” He’d jumped up. “They’re bringing out the archery bows. I feel like shooting something.”
His smile was contagious, and I’d closed the journal and followed him out to the fields.
Now, on the trail, he reached for my hand. It was sweaty, and I wanted to tease him about it. But I knew he wouldn’t even care. I didn’t let go.
By the time we reached the dock, Counselor Graham was waving us over. We slid our kayak into the water, and the glow sticks snapped to life. Max’s glow stick was a deep electric blue like his eyes, and mine was a pale yellow.
The same color as the flowers I used to hide in.
I sank down into my seat in the kayak, getting my oars ready. The whole thing nearly flipped when Max climbed in.
“Max!” I yelped. “You almost capsized us!”
He laughed, grabbing his oars.
“Too bad those lake monsters didn’t show up tonight. I was gonna help your mom plan a nice funeral,” he joked.
I scanned the water around us, staring straight down into the dark lake, and he giggled.
“Relax. You ready?”
The dark swallowed us quickly. I tried to match Max’s paddling.
Left, right, left.
But my pulse was already racing ahead.
And then, out of nowhere, my Daddy’s voice cracked through the night.
“Mackenzie! You can never go into my basement. Never. YOU HEAR ME?”
I froze. My chest locked up. I only heard my Daddy’s voice in the shadows.
I let out a little squeak, trying to push his voice out of my ears. A warm hand on my leg stopped me. A different voice cut through the memory.
“Trouble. It’s okay. We’re almost there.”
Max was my anchor, always pulling me back to safety.
I was about to say thanks when the water beneath us bloomed into glowing aquamarine, every ripple like liquid stars.
“Wow,” I breathed. It looked just like Max’s eyes.
He was smiling at the water, but I could still feel his hand resting against my leg.
For the first time in weeks, the fear loosened its grip.
But it never really left.
It waited in the shadows.
At Blackshear, even the wind was a predator.