Water’s Edge (A Series of Sharp Edges #1)

Prologue

prologue

MATTIE

20 Years Earlier

8 Years Old

T he hounds’ brutal howl surrounds me as I crouch, hidden in the brush along the lake. No matter which way I run, I always find myself here, close to the water’s edge.

Running into the darkness of Hellsmouth woods has its own dangers, but right now, my pa is the horrifying creature of my nightmares.

“Mattie Mae, we all get what we deserve, girl.” I swear I hear his voice crack. “We all get what we deserve.”

The crunching of his boots inches closer, the sound echoing in my head, like he could be everywhere all at once. Fear bubbles up in my chest, and I clasp my hands over my mouth. I’m so desperate not to make a sound, my nails dig into my cheek as I try to stifle my sobs, any noise that might betray me. Little pinpricks of pain radiate out, but the pain keeps me grounded, from losing myself to the terror building in my chest. My knees press into the wet earth beneath me, and my body shakes from both fear and the moisture hanging in the air.

He’s so close now, I can smell the whiskey rolling off him, assaulting me in waves, threatening to give me away as the bile in the back of my throat threatens to spew. This isn’t the first time I’ve run off into the woods to escape him, but it’s the first time he has brought the dogs out to bring me back.

My only chance to escape, to survive, is to lower myself into the water and hope I can hold my breath long enough for them to pass. I grasp at my dress, now covered in mud and leaves; at least the grime is better than being covered in blood.

I lay on my back on the bank of the lake and slowly slide myself down into the cool water, letting it gently flow up and over me as I take a final breath. Then, I’m immediately engulfed in soothing silence. Is this what death would be like? Limitless quiet consumes me, the calming feel of the water surrounding me. The twinkle of the lightning bugs on the bank is blurred but still visible, winking at me like they’re promising to keep my secret.

There are no more hounds or Pa’s drunken threats, only the muffled cicada chirps and the whoosh of the water as it settles around me. My eyes drift closed, and I give myself over to the water.