Greatwater Lake their hearts and their bones won't come undone

Oh, God, he had fucked this, fucked it all up. Fucked what up? He had frightened this poor girl, innocent of any crime, uninjured, alive. . .all because she shared a name with a ghost. Goddamn you, Shale. Goddamn you.

He wanted desperately to dissolve, to sink into the earth until he became one with the dirt, a quick escape from this situation that had gone so terribly awry. He had bared his heart to this stranger, his terror peeling back layer after layer until she saw him, raw and bleeding. Weeping. Screaming.

And she hadn't deserved that.

"I know, I'm. . .I'm sorry," he stammered, shaking his head. He couldn't meet her eyes. "Just, Luce--" His voice cracked in a sob as he spit out her nickname, and he squeezed his eyes shut, as if suffering from a tremendous headache. In truth, he was trying to keep the tears at bay.

With three final words, he departed, leaving the girl alone by the shore. He knew he had nothing good to offer her, and she was obviously--and for good reason--uncomfortable around him. He would run, run, run, back to the plateau, where he could break down in peace. Where no stranger would interrupt his grieving. Where he could be among friends.

And the echoes of his last sentence reverberated between his ears.

"I'm sorry, Lucy." Shale didn't know whether he had spoken to the girl, or his wife.