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George has heterochromia.

His mom has it too, but hers is only sectoral heterochromia, meaning a part of her left eye is brown while the rest is blue. George has complete heterochromia. His right eye is green, while his left is blue. As a kid, he’d get the most excited reactions from adults.

“Look at his eyes! They’re so cute!” 

“Wow, they’re different colors!”

“How stunning!”

He’d like to think that his eyes were just a part of who he was, that they were just one of the things that made him special. But in reality, he knew it was only his heterochromia and his odd accent that made him special. After explaining his eyes and why he had a British accent in Florida, he had nothing interesting to bring up about himself. He had average grades, an average height, and an average personality. 

But in the end, it was his eyes that saved his life.

And other people’s too. 

It started when he turned 19 and was still living with his parents at home. He wasn’t qualified enough to get into a good university, and the community colleges around his area didn’t have any majors he was interested in. George knew coding, but the world wasn’t quite adjusted to the wonders of new technology in the fabulous year 2003. So he made do with working at the cinema every afternoon. 

Unfortunately, this way of life made him sort of a shut-in, and he’d grown rather pale and anti-social. As a way to help, his mother decided she’d sign him up for a job as a summer camp counselor at his childhood camp, Camp Lakeside. George went there every summer until he was 14, though not by his own will. He thought being an adult would free him from his yearly camp endeavors, but apparently, he was wrong. He woke up one morning to find three weeks' worth of luggage waiting for him by the door and his mother expectantly dangling his car keys in her hand.

George protested as she ushered him to his car. “I make decent money! I don’t need this job,” he objected as she shoved him into the driver’s seat.

“Sure, but you don’t have friends,” she responded. This elicited a scoff out of George.

“Course I do. They’re just all… busy.” 

“Yes, busy being adults.” 

George glared at her as she smiled at him. “I am an adult,” he pointed out.

“You don’t act like it,” she sighed, rolling her eyes as she leaned against the driver’s door, her arms crossed over the rolled-down window as she gave her son a look mixed with sympathy and teasing. “Adults are in university or working real jobs that have insurance.” 

George refused to turn on the engine. “This isn’t going to help.”

“I think it will,” she nodded, cupping his face in her hand. “You need this, George. You need to learn to be with people, and being out in the sun will help your poor complexion.” George sighed as he swatted her hand away and turned the keys, the engine humming to life. His mom smiled, taking a step back. 

“Maybe you’ll meet a girl,” she teased. George raised a brow as he shifted into drive. 

“Boy,” he corrected.

His mom nodded, winking at him as she gave the top of his car a few pats of acknowledgment. “Whoever you meet, use protection.”

The drive there seemed shorter and shorter the older he got. It was three hours up the road, but it felt like only minutes had passed before he was driving past the welcome sign. The drive there was familiar and oddly comforting. He could get lost for hours just gazing at the land around him as his car traversed the countryside. The camp was old. Not ancient, but it was made in the 1950s, so it has some history. Apart from a few renovations the camp has undergone, the place was pretty indistinguishable from pictures taken from its glory days. 

The main cabin was a grand sight to behold; it was the dining hall, the counselor's residence, and the check-in. It was beautifully constructed and held up nicely even after so many decades. He remembered making friends in the dining hall as a timid pre-teen, smiling back on the memories as he parked his car and stepped outside. The dirt and gravel crunched beneath his shoes as he made his way to check-in. There were swarms of children running around everywhere. It was early in the afternoon, but it seemed that most parents had already left their children alone. He approached a guy with a counselor shirt and badge with an awkward wave. He smiled at him brightly. 

“Hi! Name and age, please.”

“I’m George, I’m a counselor.”

He clicked his tongue as he flipped through the papers on his clipboard. “Yes, you’re with my group, actually! We’re watching the 10 to 13-year-olds.”

George hummed as he handed him a badge from his bag. It had his name with ‘counselor’ written above it. It seemed odd to have such a name tag and the expectations that came with it. He was used to being watched over at this camp, not being the watcher. Parker seemed to notice his apprehension. “First time?”

George nodded. “Yeah. I used to come here but never been a counselor.”

He chuckled. “It’ll be a breeze! This is my second year. I’m Parker, by the way.” 

After introducing himself to his fellow counselor, he retrieved his things from his car and began wheeling them toward the counselor dorms. As he walked, his eyes darted around the clearing observantly. It was all so nostalgic; the yells of kids, the berating of stressed parents, the chitter chatter of counselors. But there were a few oddities that stood out. He noticed signs hanging on light posts and nailed to trees written in sloppy white and red letters. They all read different warnings.

“ Campers stay away from the lake after 7 p.m .”

“ Camper curfew by 9:30 pm. Counselor curfew by 11 .”

“ Campers are prohibited from leaving camp without a counselor .”

“ Mandatory buddy system: no less than three campers .”

The signs were strewn about the area in such a way that nobody could miss them. It made George feel weird. He never remembered the camp being so strict. There were times that he and other campers from his lodge would go swimming as late as midnight and go to sleep at ungodly hours without a single counselor batting an eye. He also remembered often walking around alone when he needed a break from socializing. Why was it against the rules now? He could understand the buddy system in the woods or by the lake, but in the camp?

His thoughts were cut short as he reached his assigned lodging that he shared with two other guys, according to the paper Parker had given him. He reached down and turned the knob, accidentally swinging it open more aggressively than he had anticipated. As it opened, two guys he didn’t recognize gasped as they pushed each other away, the taller of the two quickly standing from the bed he was lying on as they awkwardly stared at George. The Brit flushed red with embarrassment as the guys composed themselves. 

“It’s not what it looks like,” said the shorter one, the one who’d been standing over the taller one on the bed. He looked petrified, sweat visibly running down his forehead.

George simply put one hand up to wave it off. “Don’t worry,” he interrupted. “I don’t have any prejudice.” The boys visibly calmed. The taller one laughed with relief as the shorter one wiped his face, still recovering from the shock.

“That’s not the attitude we get every day in a place like this,” the taller one mused. “Then again, you don’t sound like you’re from here.” The man commented on George’s accent.

“I am,” George said. “I moved here when I was eight but never lost the accent.”

The man hummed, nodding politely as George explained. “I’m Karl,” he greeted. “The red one is Nick, but everyone calls him Sapnap.” Nick, or Sapnap, nodded at George, his face still flushed scarlet. The two were polar opposites. Karl was lanky, with fluffy hair and enough bracelets on his arms to fill an entire bucket. He was very different looking, nothing like what most guys around these parts looked like. Sapnap looked exactly like guys from around here, full beard, a worn cap, and athletic clothes.

“I like your eyes,” Karl complimented, stepping closer to George as he looked into them. “Are they real?”

George nodded. Karl cooed in amazement as he admired them until Sapnap tapped him on the shoulder, making the man move back as George wheeled in his luggage. The three made small talk for a while as George unpacked his clothes and other belongings into his drawers. He learned that the two had known each other for five years and had been together in secret for two and a half. He didn’t blame them; the South of America was unforgiving to people like them. He admitted that he was the same, much to Karl’s delight. 

George learned quickly that Karl was a hugger.

They were talking about their hometowns when suddenly, a sound came from outside. A scream, one loud enough to rip through the entire camp, pierced the air and made the place go momentarily still. The three boys looked at each other before running outside to check it out.

There was a crowd of people by the entrance of the main cabin surrounding two counselors, one he recognized to be Parker, trying to calm a man screaming in their faces with malice. 

“I told you!” He screamed. “I told you, warned you not to open this camp! Send them all home now! ‘Less you want blood on your hands!” His threatening words were enough to make the younger campers cling to their parents. George watched with wide eyes as Sapnap pushed his way to the center of the crowd to help them. When the man noticed Sapnap approaching, he backed down slightly.

“John,” a female counselor sighed. “We told you that you’re not allowed to come here anymore.” 

‘John’ glared at her, and that’s when George noticed he was wearing an eye patch. “You’ll see! When the kids start going missing, you’ll all see!”

At this, Sapnap started motioning for the man to back away. Despite not being the tallest, he was intimidating enough to get the man to comply. Sapnap escorted him away from the camp as the older counselors began to reassure the parents and campers. Parker and the female counselor grouped with George and Karl. They introduced themselves, and George learned that the other girl was named Sylvee.

“What was that about?” George asked. “I mean, that guy. What was his deal?”

“You haven’t heard about John Jenkins?” Sylvee asked, her eyebrows raised. George shook his head slowly. She bit her bottom lip in thought as she began to explain. “He used to be a counselor here four years ago when the attacks started. He was dating a girl he knew from high school, and she was one of the victims. He swears that some beast killed her.”

“Attacks?” George echoed. His mind was racing at the revelation. The man looked exhausted and somehow paler and more sickly-looking than George during the winter. The loss of his partner must have taken a lasting toll on him. He could never imagine what that heartbreak would be like.

“The Lakeside Eye Gouger,” Parker said. “He’s killed four couples around these parts, but John is the only one who made it out alive.”

“Mostly,” Sapnap’s voice came out of nowhere as he walked back. “The killer managed to get his eye before John escaped. The only victim to keep both of his eyes, actually. Whenever the police found the bodies, they’d always be missing their eyes. Anyways, he’s a legend turned local whacko. He runs around hollering about the ‘Beast’ to anyone close enough to hear him. We’ve kicked him out of here, like, a thousand times.”

“Why are we opening a camp if there’s a serial killer on the loose?” George asked. “I mean, aren’t there tons of horror movies about why this is a terrible idea?” The other counselors laughed. George didn’t mean to make a joke, but he didn’t say anything to stop them as their laughter eventually died down.

“Nah, ever since John got away a year ago, the killer’s disappeared,” Sapnap shrugged. “And the Beast is nothing but crazy talk. Probably some trauma shit messing with his mind.”

“The killer was probably embarrassed that he let John Jenkins, of all people, be the one that got away,” Karl mused. 

George zoned out as the conversation about the supposed Beast continued. All he could focus on was the view of the lake from between the trees, how it shimmered invitingly from the blaring light of the afternoon sun. So many of his summers were spent swimming in that very lake, where he learned how to canoe, fish, and dive. The memories still felt fresh in his mind as he zoned out on the sight and paid no attention to his fellow counselors as they conversed about the legend of the lakeside serial killer. As he took in the sight of his childhood camp, he couldn’t imagine anything bad happening here. It was camp, a place of fun and adventure. Not murder.

And it was just like that for the next week and a half. 

Nothing unusual happened; everything was normal. Campers met their roommates, formed their groups for the buddy system, and participated in daily activities, most of which George chaperoned. Believe it or not, he’d become one of the more popular counselors among the campers. Kids went to him to settle typical teenage drama and to ask him to let them explore the old hiking trails. Most of the time, he was the “chill” counselor that everyone liked, save for the few moments he had to bust a few older campers hooking up. Suffice it to say that the hardest part of this job was keeping the mosquitos away from his poor skin.

He grew ever closer to his group of counselors for their age range. It was him, Karl, Sapnap, Parker, and Sylvee. He hated to admit it, but his mom was right. He really needed this. Three weeks of uneventful fun and socialization was just what he needed.

It was perfect. Until it wasn’t.

“George, could you go get the group by the lake? They’re late.” This had been a recurring theme for a few days. Kids would tell their counselor that they’re going down to the lake for a while and then stay past curfew to see if they could get away with it. Truthfully, the counselors had been growing more careless as the days went on. The 7 o’clock curfew was, to put it simply, stupid. Everybody but the camp director thought as much. So the counselors had been letting the campers sneak by with an extra half hour lately. But now it was 7:55, and there was no sight of them. 

George looked up from the magazine he was reading with droopy hooded eyes. Today was a very action-packed day, and he was exhausted from swimming lessons, hiking challenges, and playing Capture the Flag. Karl looked back at him expectantly as he waited for George to get up. But George was invested in this article on… Jessica Simpson, apparently. “No.”

Karl frowned. He walked over to George and leaned over him, getting uncomfortably close. But George was used to Karl’s lack of personal space by now, so he ignored him and kept reading. Karl huffed as he fell on top of George, making the Brit drop his magazine and yelp loudly as he tried to push him off. 

“Get off, idiot!” He cried as he forced himself to suppress a laugh.

“I will, when you go get the lake group,” Karl grinned as he clung onto George, who was trying to push Karl off.

“I got them yesterday!” George protested as Karl’s arms wrapped around his chest and hugged him tight. “It’s your turn, you idiot!”

“Don’t test him,” Sapnap’s voice chimed in from the other corner of their dorm as he played with a paddle ball he’d confiscated earlier that day. “He will stay there for hours.”

Karl smirked at George as he held onto him with an iron grip. George groaned loudly as he came to terms with his defeat. “Fine! Just, get off.” Karl clambered off of him with a mischievous giggle. George hated losing, no matter how petty it was. He grumbled to himself as he grabbed his whistle and torch. “You just want me out of the dorm,” he accused as Karl shrugged.

“I’m only concerned about the safety of our campers,” he hummed as he sat beside Sapnap gingerly. “It’d just be by coincidence that we get ten minutes of privacy.” The boy’s fingers trailed up Sapnap’s bicep. George gagged out loud as he swung open the door. 

“If I come back and see either of you naked, I’m going to go find the Beast myself so he can take my eyes.”

“Don’t hurry back!” Sapnap called, the couple laughing as George closed the door and stormed out of the cabin to go find the lake group.

The lake was no longer than a five-minute walk from the cabin, two if he jogged. Truthfully, he didn’t mind getting the group at all; he liked walking around the camp in the evening. The setting sun soaked the thick trees in hues of yellows and oranges, and tonight was especially nice as it was the first time it wasn’t overwhelmingly humid.

George didn’t pay attention as he walked, and one of the hanging warning signs hit his forehead, making him drop his torch. He hissed in pain as he rubbed his temple. “Stupid sign…” he winced. The crudely painted words seemed to mock him. 

“ Beware of surroundings. Report anything unusual immediately. ”

Yeah, beware of the scary hanging signs that might give you brain damage. George rolled his eyes as he bent down and searched through the ankle-high grass for his torch. When his fingers brushed against the hard surface of it, he swept aside fallen leaves to pick it up. He flicked it on and off a few times to make sure the batteries hadn’t fallen out. Once he deemed it in working order, he went to flick it back off, but something stopped him.

His eyes caught sight of something on the ground next to where it’d landed. He raised a brow and knelt down to inspect it, shining the light on it carefully. It looked like a… footprint. Rather, an exaggerated footprint. It was the biggest thing he’d ever seen, easily passing a shoe size 16. He also realized, with some hesitancy, the four-pointed “toes,” better yet claws at the end. It was far too slim to be a bear and way too long to be a crocodile. He had no idea what on Earth it could’ve been, and he felt his heart flutter slightly as he realized that apart from the slight rustling of leaves and brush, it was quiet. Eerily quiet. 

He couldn’t hear any splashing, laughter, or voices. 

“Shit…” George ran to the lake, completely forgetting about the footprint. If anything happened to them, it would be his fault. His mind repeated these words as he panted for air, drawing nearer and nearer to the lake as his ears desperately strained to pick up any noise over the wind and his own racing heart. When he finally reached the dock on the lake, he shined his torch toward the water, scanning for any sign of life. “Hello? Lake group? It’s 8 o’clock. Come out and get back to camp!”

There was no reply.

George cursed loudly as he jerked his head around in every direction, desperate to see or hear anything. There were at least 10 campers out at the lake last he was told. There’s no way they all… the currents in the lake weren’t that strong. And if anything happened, someone would’ve come for help. They probably left to explore. The lake wasn’t too far from camp, so they couldn’t have been far–

His panic was interrupted by a splash.

George spun around and aimed the light toward the edge of the water, his hand trembling as he squinted. He could see where the surface had been broken, the ripples traveling slowly as whatever jumped in did not resurface. The splash was loud, and the ripples were big. Whatever jumped in was man-sized. George’s heart raced as he walked over to the edge of the lake, peering over the reeds. He scanned the water for movement, praying in the back of his mind that it was all a big prank, that whoever just dove under would jump out, spray him in the face, and they’d all laugh it off. But as the seconds turned into a minute, and nothing happened, George felt himself grow more and more nauseous. What the hell was happening?

A noise broke the stillness.

It sounded like hitched gasps coming from behind him. George shined the light into the trees and was met by the sight of somebody swiftly ducking behind one of the bushes. He paused, his adrenaline pumping on overload as he forced composure. He wished he would’ve brought his phone or something to defend himself with. He had no idea what to expect as he inched closer, mentally readying himself to run back to the cabin. “Who’s back there?” His voice came out shaky and strained as he forced himself to call out.

The hitched gasps got louder at the sound of his voice, and became increasingly quicker. It was when a choked-out sob met his ears that George realized the sound was somebody crying. Boldly, perhaps from the confidence that whoever was here was also distraught, he walked up to the brush and peered over it, only to be met with a huddled group of campers trembling in terror as he made eye contact with them. They were all soaking wet, still in their swimsuits and shivering, as they all collectively flinched when George poked his head over the foliage. The younger girl who had been crying shrieked when she met his gaze. “Stay away! Stay away! Please don’t take me!”

George moved the torch, illuminating his face as he shook his head. “Woah, woah!” He said, his tone laced with relief and confusion. “It’s me, it’s just me.”

Nobody made any movements as the two parties stared at each other. George was catching his breath as he mentally counted and named each of the shivering faces he saw. Once he determined there were eight kids, he spoke up again.

“What are you guys doing? You’re gonna get us in trouble. Do you know how late it is--” He reached his hand out, but everyone scrambled back. He paused as they all stared at him with absolute horror.

“Stop!” One of the older boys snapped. “Stay back, George. Where’s Keaton and Helen?” George tilted his head. He was confused. Keaton and Helen? The older campers that he’d busted for hooking up twice now? How was he supposed to know where they were? They weren’t in his group. 

Those are the words that left his mouth as he followed up with, “Were they out here with you guys?”

The kids didn’t answer him as they looked amongst themselves. The little girl, who was still quietly sobbing, cried a little louder as two kids hugged her tight. The boy spoke up once more, but he avoided George’s question. “Where’ve you been tonight?” His voice was ragged and sounded utterly exhausted.

George gave him an incredulous look. “My room,” he insisted. He didn’t like the way he was being watched right now, as if they all expected him to lunge at any moment. “I came to get you so the director doesn’t bust us for curfew.”

Silence fell over them once more. There was a pit growing in his stomach as the gazes of terror remained. He didn’t know what to do, what to say, how to calm them. Why were they so scared of him? He opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by one of the older girls. “His clothes,” she pointed out. “They’re dry. He’s not lying.”

It wasn’t until she had pointed that out that everyone began to calm down. George managed to flag down some patrolling counselors to help him with the campers. It took an hour to get them all back to camp. They were shaken and were reluctant to come out of their hiding spot. They were all petrified, but none of them were as inconsolable as the little girl. The entire time she kept screaming and crying, refusing to let George get anywhere near her. She kept screaming about the monster that took the missing teens into the lake. 

When they did a head count, surely enough, the two were missing from the bunch, and checking their rooms yielded no results, either. The girl was far too paranoid to question, so the counselors questioned the others. George was present for most of the interrogations, and every single time, they’d give the same story.

“We were swimming in the lake, and we heard something.”

“Keaton was being pulled into the water.”

“I was so scared!”

“There was so much screaming…”

“I couldn’t find Helen!”

“Something chased us,”

“We hid…”

“Those eyes. The only thing I saw in the water were those eyes.”

“We thought it was counselor George.”

Of course, after every single camper had George’s name in their mouth, he was heavily interrogated by the director himself as well as the police. He must’ve been in that room for hours. They hammered him with questions, treating him as if he were a suspected serial killer or feral animal. But really, what’s the difference between the two? Eventually, his story was straightened out, and his name was absolutely cleared. He wasn’t there at the lake until 8 o’clock to go and get them. It couldn't have been him; both Karl and Sapnap had seen him before and had been with him all day, and the patrolling counselors saw him exit the cabin at 7:55 to go get the campers. His clothes were dry to the bone, and they couldn’t find any evidence of him putting up a struggle with anyone. The camp director grilled them all for letting kids in the lake past curfew, and they were all threatened with legal action if it ever happened again.

George, Sapnap, Karl, Parker, and Sylvee, as well as most of the other counselors, helped the police with their search party. They trekked for hours around the lake and wandered at least half a mile into the nearby woods, but it amounted to nothing. They couldn’t find a single piece of evidence that either of the teenagers had been anywhere. It was as if they were never there in the first place. Eventually, they were forced to give up, and the police left with the promise that they’d be back tomorrow.

George sat on the step of the main cabin as the police cars pulled away from the camp and disappeared down the dirt trail he’d driven just over a week before. His chin was resting in his palms as he stared blankly out at the thick darkness engulfing the once lively campgrounds. He couldn't stop thinking about everything that had happened, how those kids were so scared of him. He’d never been feared like that before. There were times that he’d imagined what it was like to be intimidating, but now that he’s experienced it and has seen the looks of absolute terror his presence brought, he never wanted to feel that way again.

It all happened so fast. It wasn’t even four hours before he got to the lake group that he’d seen the couple walking around hand-in-hand. It was no secret that they were crazy about one another, and they were not shy with their affections. George’s eyes narrowed as he glanced over at the sight of the lake from beyond the thick, shadowy trees. What once was glimmering with the sparkles of sunlight was now shrouded in the dreary darkness, looking nothing like the fun and lively sight he was so used to. Every account of the incident involved the couple getting dragged under the water by something strong enough to incapacitate two teenagers. And that, allegedly, shared George’s gaze. 

He looked away from the lake, dropping his head to his knees as he sighed deeply. It couldn’t be possible. No normal man could stay under the water and go undetected long enough to grab two people. No normal man could kidnap two teenagers and leave absolutely no trail. No normal man could grab two teenagers in front of eight other people and still be nearly completely unseen. It’s impossible. It’s supernatural.

George felt a presence beside him, and he looked over his shoulder to see Sapnap standing over him. His eyes were drooping with exhaustion as he tightened his lips upon being noticed. “Hey. It’s three in the morning.”

George just looked back down. He could hear Sapnap sigh behind him as another set of footsteps came closer. He didn’t have to look up to know it was Karl. The soft hand rubbing his back was enough to prove him right. “Hey, dude,” he whispered. “It’s late, we should get some sleep.” 

“You expect me to sleep after that?” George’s voice carried more hostility than he intended, but his words held some truth. How was he supposed to fall asleep after that experience? “I just… it was so… the looks on their faces were like nothing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Karl glanced at Sapnap, the two sharing a look as they sat on either side of George. They sat in silence for a few moments, just staring out into the darkness of the camp. George scanned the edge of the trees as Karl’s fingers softly traced shapes into the small of his back. He didn’t know what he was looking for; he didn’t even know if he wanted to see anything at all.

Eventually, Sapnap’s voice broke the mutual silence. “What do you think happened?”

George glanced at the man. Sapnap was looking out toward the dirt trail leaving the camp, his eyes hardened as if he was also looking for something. Or rather, a lack of something.

“I don’t know,” George said. “I didn’t see anybody. I wasn’t there in time.” Sapnap hummed, his eyes scanning the edge of the trees like George had done moments before. “You didn’t see anybody?”

George blinked slowly. “What does--”

“You heard something, then,” Sapnap said. He faced George, his expression tense as if he were bracing himself for a jumpscare. “We won’t think you’re crazy, George. But you’re way too freaked out not to have seen or heard anything at all.”

George looked at Karl, who still had his hand placed on George’s back. He looked calmer than Sapnap, but George could see the hints of hesitance painted in his gaze. The man nodded along to Sapnap’s words as George frowned. He didn’t want to bring up the splash or the footprint. They’d never believe him, no matter what they promised him. He knew well how they felt about any wild theories on the Lakeside, what's his name, and, being honest, he didn’t want to admit his thoughts to himself. It was crazy. Stupid, even. 

Instead, he got defensive. “What are you saying? You think I’m lying?” He stood up, shrugging Karl away from him as he stood back from them. 

Karl shook his head profusely as he stood alongside Sapnap, raising his hands as he softened his face. “No, we’re not implying anything like that!” He assured. “We just think that there’s something more to what you’re saying. I know it sounds stupid… but if there’s a chance that you saw someone…” Karl hesitated, glancing at Sapnap as the man continued to scan the trees surrounding the camp. “...saw… something, we want to know. And I’m sure the police will want to know!”

George let out a half gasp, half laugh as his gaze shifted from Karl to Sapnap. “The police interrogated me for hours. They know everything that I saw. I don’t have to explain myself again.” he exclaimed. Karl just groaned as George shook his head in disbelief.

“Stop it, George. Just stop,” Karl exclaimed. “I know you think there’s something weird out there. Don’t lie, we aren’t calling you crazy. I- I think I believe you.” George and Karl held each other’s gaze as silence fell over the trio once more. George’s mind was racing, the memories of finding the unnatural footprint, the unexplainable splash, and the stories the campers told replaying in his mind as their intense eye contact lingered on. Maybe George was just scared of glancing at the trees in case he saw something he wasn’t meant to see. What that might be, he wasn’t sure. But he was sure that anybody who had gotten too close to it hadn’t made it out alive. Or, at least in one piece.

“So, y-you really think there’s someth- someone in the woods? That the killer is back?” George’s voice was quiet, like he had to force himself to let those words escape his throat. Karl bit his lip as Sapnap finally pried his eyes away from their surroundings and took his boyfriend’s hand in his. He looked up at George with a vulnerable expression he’d never seen from the counselor.

“We’ve felt weird since the first night,” Sapnap admitted. George gulped, wetting his lips nervously as he listened to the man speak. “But, I couldn’t admit it. I mean, we’ve been joking about the Lakeside Eye Gouger for days now. If I – we, admitted to believing it… we just decided to double down instead of getting teased.” Sapnap couldn’t hold George’s gaze any longer. Perhaps it was because of the way George’s gaze hardened the more he spoke.

“What made you guys feel so weird?” George questioned.

“Well, we’ve been hooking up around the back of the cabin almost every night,” Karl said. Sapnap blushed as Karl looked away in embarrassment, a smile threatening to break his lips as he hid his face bashfully. “We didn’t want to be weird with you in the room, even if you’re gay. So, we’ve been sneaking around back to let off steam. Or, well, we’ve tried to.” Karl’s gaze hardened once more. “Every single time we’ve felt… watched. Or, we heard rustling and thought someone was going to find us. And after about the third time it happened, we were convinced we had a voyeur. But no matter how hard we look, we never find anybody. Not a single trace. It’s freaky, dude. Really, really freaky.”

George’s breaths came quicker as he thought back to the lake. How he’d heard rustling right after he found the footprint, how he’d felt so on edge and paranoid, how he heard but did not see whatever was responsible for the noises, like how Karl was describing it. Was he being watched back then?

“I heard… rustling. Right before I got to the lake. But that was all. I just thought it was the wind, maybe an animal. But now… I don’t know.”

The quiet was deafening as they stood wordlessly outside of the cabin, trying to wrap their minds around the situation. George felt bad for bending the truth, but what was he supposed to say? That he saw an inhuman footprint? That someone jumped into the water and didn’t come up for air? That every single camper swore they saw George’s eyes watching them from the water? He couldn’t. Wouldn’t. He wouldn’t be made the next Whacko John Jenkins crying about a monster in the woods and risk losing the friends he’d finally made after years of sitting alone in his room. There was always an explanation justified with logic. He was just too paranoid and shaken up from the evening’s encounters to think of it. The worst-case scenario was that the very human Lakeside serial killer was back, and he was eerily good at hiding his tracks and holding his breath.

After a few heartbeats, Karl broke the silence. “There’s only two more weeks of camp. I’m sure Sapnap can keep it in his pants for that long. I don’t want to be in an episode of Dateline someday,” Karl said though he side-eyed his beet-red boyfriend the entire time he spoke. George huffed out a half-chuckle, a much-needed break from the tension enveloping them.

“Yeah, or become the inspiration for a Stephen King book or something,” George grinned. Everyone laughed as they headed for the cabin door, walking to their shared dorm. 

“But, seriously. If some sicko is out there and hungry for more, I think we should all stay together,” Karl said. Sapnap and George nodded in agreement. 

“Plus, the police’ll stay around the area more,” Sapnap pointed out. “So we’ll be safer anyway.”

“True, but safety in numbers, too,” Karl added. George fiddled with the lock on their dorm as the couple bickered.

“Well, yeah. But the boys in blue around here are tough,” Sapnap argued. “We don’t have to be up each other’s asses. At least… not with George around…” George glanced at them and made a disgusted face as they giggled together.

“Come on, Sap. It won’t kill you to hang out with George more,” Karl smiled as he nudged the shorter man. George pushed open the door, and they all walked inside.

Sapnap groaned dramatically. “It might,” he grumbled. “Have you seen the way he eats? He always scrapes the fork with his teeth. It’s so–”

“Guys,” George interrupted. They looked at him. George stood still as he faced away from them. “Who left the window open? It let rain in, and now the floor is soaking wet.” Surely enough, the double windows right above Karl’s bed were left wide open, and the boy’s sheets and the floor below his bed were soaked to the brim. Karl cursed loudly as he ran over to shut the windows and grimaced at the feeling of wet blankets on his knees. 

“I don’t remember leaving it open,” Karl whined. “I always shut it before I sleep.”

“It was probably my fault,” Sapnap admitted. “I must’ve forgotten to shut it after smoking.” Karl gave him a grumpy face as he flicked excess water off his hands. “But I could’ve sworn I locked it up.”

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter now. My new sheets are completely ruined,” Karl cried as he stripped his bed. 

George grabbed one of his towels and put it over the wet puddle. He moved to wipe it across the entire floor but paused when he realized it was only by Karl’s bed. Everywhere else in the room was dry, not an ounce of water in sight. He furrowed his brows in confusion as he tried to reason how that could be possible.

Karl hopped onto Sapnap’s bed and threw himself under the covers. “You soak my sheets, you sleep cold tonight,” Karl announced as he bundled himself up. Sapnap groaned as he kicked off his shoes and lay beside him, blanketless. George shrugged off his thoughts, which were already leaving his mind, as he stripped to his t-shirt and boxers and climbed into his own bed. “George?”

George looked over at Karl. The man’s face was soft, the kind of softness he possessed when he was being sincere. It was cute and made George feel wholesome for some reason. Though he’d die before saying that out loud. 

“I know you’re a.. how do I put this,” Karl hummed thoughtfully. “A bit of a stoic. But, if you wanna come lay with us, I can always kick Sapnap to the edge of the bed.” Sapnap made a noise of protest as he lightly nudged Karl’s shoulder, causing the boy to chuckle.

“Ok, whatever,” George barely managed to suppress his smile as he rolled over to face the wall. The exhaustion of the day was catching up to him as his adrenaline finally died down. He could worry about the Lakeside whoever tomorrow when he had enough energy to help look for the missing couple. Maybe it wasn’t the killer at all. He’d been MIA for years. Why come back now? And if it was, how did no other kids see him around the lake? How did they not find a single trace of human life during the search party? And the footprint… had to have been one of the fin-things that divers wear on their feet. That made sense. He was sure that at least one of those nerdy kids out there swam with those fins. That was definitely what that was. How stupid of him to think that it was… could’ve been real.

As if.

His thoughts lulled him into a light sleep.

…

He could hear everything, despite being presently at rest. He listened to the soft pitter-patter of rain on the closed windows in the real world, even though his mind was back at the lake. It was night, but he could see everything as if he had night vision. It didn’t look any different from the real lake, or at least not that he could tell in his unconscious state.

Pitter Patter.

A splash. He whipped his head around to see that the water had been disturbed. It was like before, where something had jumped into the water and sent ripples traveling over the surface. Only this time, George could actually see something.

Pitter Patter. Pat.

He leaned closer to the water, his body hovering just above the surface. Oddly, he couldn’t see his reflection, only the murky water and the traveling ripples. But also something moving just below the surface.

Pitter Patter. Pat. Pat.

He moved closer, closer, closer… until he realized that what he saw was his own eyes looking back at him from beneath the dimly lit waters. George didn’t react; he stayed still as he and his dream eyes gazed upon each other, neither of them blinking. He felt like he couldn’t look away, as if he was locked in a staring contest with those mismatched eyes. The rain in the real world became louder. Deeper as the dream staring contest continued. 

Pat. Pat. Pat.

George suddenly realized that he wasn’t breathing. He hurriedly gasped, but as the air filled his lungs, his dream eyes faded away into the murky waters. George leaned away, and that’s when he became aware of the thumps of squelching wet sounds encompassing his hearing. He looked around the area he was in for anything else as he forced his breathing to steady to an acceptable pace. But as he looked and looked for the source of the noise, he became more and more aware that the pats and thumps weren’t coming from this place but the real world. And that what he was hearing wasn’t rain.

Pat. Pat. Pat.

It was footsteps.

George gasped for air once more as he was pulled out of his dream and back to reality. The room was heavy with darkness. 

But it did not conceal the intruder inside. 

He threw his blankets off of himself and backed into the wall by his bed. The silhouette of a 7-foot-tall creature greeted his waking vision. As he stared at the ghastly sight, he found himself unable to move or scream. Frozen in a state of shock. Besides the heavy footsteps, the only thing he could hear was his heart pounding in his chest. From what he could tell, it had clawed fingers and feet, with a big fin running down its spine and a long snake-like tail. There was barely any time for him to notice the engrossing smell of dew the creature produced as he was too busy taking in the horrifying sight of it looming over the sleeping bodies of Karl and Sapnap, its own body dripping wet.

George’s heart skipped a beat when he realized that it wasn’t rain that had made Karl’s sheets wet. It must have broken in. It was here… the whole time, under Karl’s bed. Waiting. 

Waiting for them to fall asleep.

George remembered what Sapnap had mentioned, about him and Karl feeling watched while they kissed around back, and it all started to make sense. Keaton and Helen. Couples missing over the years. The killer targets young couples. This was the Beast, the Lakeside Eye Gouger, and it had come for his friends. 

It extended a clawed hand to Sapnap’s sleeping face, and that was enough to snap George out of his trance.

“ HOLY SHIT!! ” His scream startled the Beast as it threw itself off balance, taking a step back from the bed as Karl and Sapnap jolted up, looking around hysterically. Karl noticed it first, and the shrill scream he let escape his throat reoriented the Beast. It hissed at them, and though George was behind it, he could only imagine the ferocious face it must’ve made as Karl frantically tried to back away until he hit the corner of the wall, pulling the blanket over his chest like it could protect him. Sapnap screamed as well, though instead of fleeing, his reaction was to get off of the bed and grab the closest item within his reach, which happened to be the bedside lamp. 

As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the fight. Sapnap was trying to hit the creature with the lamp, but as he swung and missed, the creature managed to grab him by his throat. It hoisted the man into the air effortlessly, like Sapnap was nothing more than a ragdoll. Sapnap gasped helplessly, trying to pry the claws of the monster away from his throat, his cries hopeless and of pure terror. George noticed scarlet liquid dripping down Sapnap’s chest as the Beast’s claws dug into his throat.

“Sapnap! No!” Karl screamed as he leaped out of the bed and started to hit the Beast with as much strength as he could muster. The monster didn’t budge, it didn’t even look mildly hurt. The only reason it seemed to acknowledge Karl’s efforts at all was out of annoyance. It swung around, its massive, scaly tail taking Karl’s feet out from under him, causing the boy to fall. On the way down, Karl’s head hit the bed frame, and by the time he landed on the floor, he was out cold.

“G-G–” George’s eyes snapped back to Sapnap, who was fighting to stay conscious as the Beast held him up higher by the throat. “G- G- Ger–” The man was choking out something, George thought it might’ve been him trying to say his name, but he wasn’t sure. He locked eyes with Sapnap. He’d never seen such pure horror in another human’s gaze before. It was carnal and raw. It was as if he could see the life draining from Sapnap in real-time.

Call it adrenaline or pure instinct, but seeing his friend’s hopeless look of terror made George surge forward off of the bed and kick the Beast’s leg as hard as he could manage, praying his years of soccer would come in handy. The Beast yelped in surprise and whipped around to face its attacker, but as it did so, it also swung Sapnap around, and as a result, George was hit directly in the head by the lamp Sapnap still held firmly. Unfortunately, the part that hit him was the lightbulb, and it shattered across his face as he screamed in agony, falling to his knees as he felt the glass break his skin.

As his body fell to the ground, the warm blood trickling down his face was the only sensation he was aware of, completely disoriented from the blow. He felt like his body was made of concrete as he lay there on the cool wooden floor, aloof to the muffled screaming a few mere feet away from him. 

After some struggle, George managed to lift his throbbing head from the floor and peer around the spinning, blurry room.  He spotted Sapnap huddled against the far wall, frozen in place. They locked eyes again, and he could still see the terror in Sapnap’s gaze, as well as the dark red bloodstains dripping from his neck to his tank top. George opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. All he could do was gasp and sputter as he tried to will himself to stand, or sit up, or something. But all he could manage to do was roll onto his side and then his back. The cool floor felt soothing on his throbbing head as he blinked slowly, trying to clear his blurry vision. But it was no use. He could feel his consciousness fading, his body growing weaker as the intolerable pain was forcing it to shut down completely.

In his last moments of awareness, the only thing he registered was his own gaze staring back at him from above. But his reflective gaze looked much different than his real, disoriented one. The eyes he was looking into were hardened, more intense. Maybe it was the head trauma, but George could’ve sworn he saw the look soften into shock before everything went dark. 

…

The first thing he felt was warmth. He was still too disoriented to register the source of the warmth, but all he knew was that it was a comforting juxtaposition to the waking soreness on his face. He leaned into it, basking in it. George trembled slightly as his body slowly began to wake up, and the lone comfort of warmth was now rivaled by an aching face and sore legs. A groan of dissatisfaction escaped his throat as he protested the new sensations. It was too late to fall back to sleep now. George sighed as he finally blinked open his eyes. His vision was still a bit blurry, but he could make out his surroundings. And all it took was a quick glance around to realize that they were unfamiliar. Confusion was the first thing George felt as he realized he was in what appeared to be a condemned room, with old, greasy walls rotted with time. Where he lay, he was facing the wall away from the rest of the room. He took a moment to let himself wake up a tad more before trying to roll over. 

His heart sank when he found that he couldn’t move.

He looked down at his waist, and to his utter horror, he realized that two large arms held him firmly in place. They were wrapped around him vehemently. It was when he noticed that he was trapped that he realized the source of that comforting warmth was coming from the body lying right behind him. The only noise he could register was the pounding of his own heart as he forced himself to stifle a scream of pure terror. This couldn’t be real, this couldn’t be happening. Memories from the previous night began to flood his mind as he forced himself to lay as still as a rock in the intruder’s, no, his kidnapper’s arms. Was this the man who took Keaton and Helen? Was this the Lakeside Eye Gouger? 

George's eyes involuntarily glanced down at the arms once more, only to come to a much more haunting revelation… Not only were those limbs wrapped around him possessively, but a wave of absolute terror swept over him as he realized they were decidedly non-human. The scales adorning them were a deep shade of yellow, or possibly green; their texture slightly damp to the touch. A closer inspection revealed long fins running down the scaled appendages. The air was filled with a scent of dew emanating from his kidnapper. The smell was nearly strong enough to overwhelm his senses completely.

His reluctant assessment of the creature continued, and a shudder coursed through him as he noticed the sheer size of the being spooning him. The massive form pressed against his back, its chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm. Whatever this creature was, it seemed to be in a state of peaceful slumber, contrasting sharply with the turmoil of waking emotions raging within George. The strange mix of fear and disbelief mingled as he finally came to the bone-chilling conclusion.

No, this wasn’t just the Lakeside Eye Gouger. It was the Beast. 

The Beast was real.

If he survived this, he owed Whacko John Jenkins a serious “Dude, we fucked up. You’re actually NOT crazy. At all. Kudos.”

George forced his lungs to comply with his mind, screaming at them to calm down. If he moved too suddenly, the Beast could awaken. So far, it seemed like it was perfectly content spooning him in its slumber like he was a cuddly stuffed animal. If he moved, he could risk alerting it, but if he stayed still, it was inevitably bound to wake up anyway. As George ran through his thoughts, his eyes trained on the moldy wall before him. It was illuminated by sunlight, meaning that it was day. Maybe this thing was nocturnal? Or perhaps it was just tired from the events of last night, though George doubted it. It swung a fully grown man around like a doll and incapacitated two others by barely moving its body. Shivers traveled down his spine as he remembered how easily it sent Karl to the ground. Is he okay? What about Sapnap? The police have to be back by now, surely they’re looking for me. If he could just get outside, he’d have a better chance of being found. 

If he moved slowly enough, perhaps he could slip out undetected. At least long enough to gain some ground. However, his body seemed to rebel against his brain, refusing to move an inch. He couldn’t ignore the alarm bells ringing in his mind, that moving would have a bigger chance of getting him caught than staying put. He reasoned with himself as he stared down at the folded arms enveloping his waist. If he stayed, he was like a lamb to the slaughter. No way of getting out. Trapped. If he ran, he had a chance. Even if it was slim, even if there was a bigger chance that he would get caught, it was better than sitting and accepting his fate.

Thankfully, his arms weren’t pinned along with the rest of his body. Using all the strength he had, George slowly started pushing himself out of the Beast’s grasp. He inched his way down, his shirt bunching up his back as a result. George cringed when his bare back met the feeling of moist scales rubbing against him. Involuntary groans of strain escaped his throat as he inched closer and closer to freedom. Just as his head was nearing where his chest used to be, he felt movement from behind him. 

George stilled, his heart skipping a beat as the Beast made deep rumbling noises from within its chest. The creature stirred momentarily, shifting its body to get more comfortable. It was at this moment that George finally understood the phrase “Life flashing before your eyes” because it did. Him as a kid seeing America for the first time out of the plane window, the little girl that used to have a crush on him crying after he told her that he didn’t like her back, the joy he felt when he got his first paycheck from the cinema, the first time in this very camp, his mom waving goodbye as he pulled out of the driveway. Was that the last time he’d ever see her? The last thing he ever did was complain about her sending him off to camp. Would she ever know his fate? He didn’t want his mother to know that he succumbed to the serial killer of the camp she made him attend. He didn’t want her to live with herself, knowing that if she had never sent him here, he’d still be alive. Antisocial, but alive. George didn’t realize he was crying until he felt his warm tears run down his cheeks. He couldn't wipe them as his head was about to duck under the scaly arms. A new burst of determination bubbled in his chest as he kept slipping himself out of the Beast’s grasp. He couldn’t let his mother feel that way, he couldn’t let Sapnap and Karl feel as if they failed him, that they were the reason he was dead. 

The scales on its arms burned against his face, and for a moment, George thought that its skin may have been poisonous, but then he remembered that his face was cut by the lamp last night. The friction must have reopened the wounds. Clenching his teeth, George pulled down until his head was free from the appendages. Once he was finally out of the creature’s hold, George leaned back, sitting on his knees as he silently caught his breath and worked on calming his rapidly beating heart.

From this angle, he could finally see the face of his captor clearly. The most notable feature was its unnatural color. Yellow or green. He couldn’t tell. The texture of the thing’s skin was fish-like, and though it had a shockingly human-like facial structure, it was easy to tell that it was decidedly not human. If the fish skin didn’t tip you off, the lizard-like ruffles and gills by its ears certainly should. It had messy, unkempt hair - again, eerily human-like, that sat atop its head like a curly bush. From this angle, it was also easier to see this creature's size in full. Even curled in slumber, its size was daunting. George felt his face flush red with anxiety as he realized just how much danger he was in, and suddenly his heart was back to racing.

George examined the small cabin, desperately seeking an exit. All of the windows were boarded up, and what little space was left for light to shine through was too small to climb out of. Parts of the ceiling had fallen in, but why would he leave through the ceiling? He wasn’t stupid. Why would he even think of doing that? Desperation, he guessed. George’s gaze flicked over the room, noting the old bunk beds missing their mattresses, and the rotting walls. Someone even appeared to have left fishing gear in one of the corners. Finally, he found what he’d been looking for. The door. 

It was across the room and beside one of the bunk bed frames. It didn’t appear to be boarded up, but there was no way to tell if it was locked from over here. George glanced back down at the Beast, relieved to see it was still sleeping soundly. Yeah, get your beauty rest after trying to kill my friends, you bastard. 

Feeling like this was his only chance, George lifted himself to his feet and crept away from the monster and toward the door with sore, wobbly legs. With every step, George's heart pounded louder than the snores of the slumbering monster behind him. His legs felt like jelly, wobbling with each hesitant stride. Damn that long search party. He dared not make a sound, not even a whimper, for fear of waking the Beast and ruining his chances. Sweat dripped down his brow as he inched closer to freedom, his breaths shallow and quick. He was careful to avoid any floorboard that looked weak as he continued forward. 

So close. He was so close to the door he could practically taste his escape. A small smile dared to break his lips as his chest swelled with anticipation. Without realizing it, he started walking faster, his desperation for escape outweighing his judgment. He was standing right before the door, his heart pounded in his chest as he stepped forward and reached for the doorknob. 

A loud CRACK echoed through the room, freezing George in his tracks. His blood turned to ice as he realized he had stepped on a loose floorboard.

With a sinking feeling in his gut, George slowly turned around, his eyes wide with terror. And there, standing in the dim light filtering through the window, was the Beast. Its eyes gleamed with a malevolent intelligence as it stared at George with unbreaking focus, its massive form towering over him like a nightmare come to life, despite being across the entire room. For a moment, there was a tense silence, broken only by the rapid thumping of George's heart as neither one of them moved an inch, stuck in an intense staring contest with one another. 

This was when George realized that this thing had two different colored eyes. One blue, one a yellow or green. His breath hitched in his throat. The kids were right, it was George’s gaze staring at them from the lake.

With a guttural sound, the monster suddenly lurched forward. George all but shrieked as his instincts kicked into overdrive, throwing himself at the door and desperately grasping for the door knob. A sob escaped his throat as he heard those deep footsteps quicken and inhumane sounds begin to call at him. George seized the handle and twisted, pulling it back faster than he could process and sprinting outside far too quickly to bother shutting it back. What did it matter? The Beast was right on his tail anyway.

“HELP!” George screamed breathlessly as he took off into the trees. Tears were now freely falling down his stinging cheeks as he forced his body forward, his legs moving faster than he felt comfortable with as he fought to keep balance and not become a horror falling girl cliche. “HELP!” 

His anguished cries of terror pierced the dense silence of the woods as he took off in a random direction. The monstrous sounds, like something from a horror film, chased him relentlessly, its proximity so suffocatingly close that he could almost feel the creature's hot breath on his nape. The underbrush clawed at his legs with each frantic step, and tangled roots threatened to trip him. Despite the urgency moving him forward, he found himself lost in the maze of trees. Desperately scanning the wilderness for any familiar landmark or guiding light, his eyes darted around him, searching for a glimpse of salvation within the woods. But the dense foliage seemed to conspire against him, obscuring any semblance of direction and driving him deeper into the heart of the unknown. Yet, driven by the primal instinct to survive, he pushed forward. But his instincts could only take him so far.

George groaned as his knees began to weaken, a result of his fatigue from the events of last night. He was running purely on his adrenaline now. George let out a desperate sound as he tried to ignore the way he was beginning to rapidly lose energy, sounds that turned to straight sobbing when he felt footsteps right behind him, just at arms length. 

He panicked as fingertips brushed against his shirt and growls grew louder. He didn’t know what to do, and he wasn’t thinking rationally when he made his next decision. Out of desperation, George launched himself to the side, losing balance and toppling over as the Beast let out a confused noise and also skidded to a stop, its gaze still trained on George as his body hit the ground. 

George winced painfully as he roughly hit the forest floor, knocking the air out of his lungs as his body rag-dolled down the small slope he’d fallen into. He must’ve hit every single thorn and branch as he slid down the muddy slope. All he could do was shut his eyes and wait for it to be over. Maybe he’d fall so far that the Beast wouldn’t want to follow him all the way down. 

His hopes were snuffed when he landed one last time, right on his back, finally coming to a complete stop. His lungs gasped for air as he hesitantly opened his eyes. From this position, the only thing he could see was the sky above in all its blue glory. A pleasant sight compared to the moldy cabin he had woken up in, probably not even ten minutes ago. He tried to crane his head up but faltered as his exhaustion kept him from moving that much. With a sigh, his head fell back on the ground, and he closed his eyes once more. The adrenaline powering him was little to none now, and all his desire for survival was gone. He was far too exhausted to care anymore. All he could feel was the soreness of his body and the stinging of his wounds, new and old. His tears only made his face hurt worse, but he couldn’t keep them from flowing now. The only calming sensation he felt was the gentle tides of the pond he had landed near, the bottom of his legs laying in the chilly water as the rest of his body lay limp in the cool mud and grass.

George sobbed as he sensed a presence looming over him, big and imposing. He didn’t have to open his eyes to know that it had followed him down the slope and was now right above him. His senses were once more overwhelmed at the scent of dew the thing produced. Its warm body crawled over him and caged George underneath it, its hands placed by his head and legs just slightly brushing against George’s. He tightened his shut eyes even more firmly, not daring to let himself even catch a single glimpse of the thing that would surely be his doom. If he was going to die, he’d do himself a favor and let the sky be the last thing he could say he saw. 

And just when he thought he was done for,

“...Open.”

It spoke.

“Open your eyes,” a deep, raspy voice rumbled over him, its hot breath fanning George’s face as he flinched. George’s heart nearly stopped from the utter shock that befell him. He was taken so off guard that he found himself obeying the order. Though he wasn’t sure why. Surely this was a trick, some sadistic game it was playing with him to cause him as much suffering as possible. This thing is a murderous eye gouger, and he was next.

But when his gaze met the other’s, and he saw how it brightened with pure excitement upon making eye contact, he wasn’t so sure anymore. 

The Beast inhaled sharply before its hand reached up to George’s face. The man flinched instinctively and tried to tilt his head away, but it only hushed George as it lightly caressed his cheek. Its claws, which had so effortlessly dug into Sapnap’s throat mere hours before, didn’t even make a single nick on George’s face as it studied his gaze. It was like watching somebody discover light for the first time. 

“… Eyes. They don’t… match,” it cooed, wholly engrossed by the sight of them. George felt his face grow warmer, though he chalked that down to his stinging wounds. 

He swallowed nervously as it watched him expectantly, waiting for a response. 

“N… neither do yours,” George pointed out, hoping that it was the correct answer. 

He was proven right when the Beast flashed a sharp, toothy grin at him. “No, they don’t,” it replied, its tone laced with happiness. It almost sounded as if it was trying not to laugh as it inched its face closer to his. George would’ve backed away if he wasn’t lying pinned to the ground. 

George wetted his lips nervously as its gaze finally broke its intense stare and wandered to other places on his body, mainly his face, as it appeared to be studying his wounds. Its hand, which was still pressed gently on George’s cheek, moved to trace the stinging wounds gingerly. George had to bite his tongue to keep himself from wincing as the sensation felt anything but comforting. 

In some weird desperation to regain some space, George’s hand moved up and cupped the Beast’s cheek as well, mirroring the way the Beast was holding his. This took the creature by surprise as it inched back slightly, its gaze meeting George’s once more. Now that they were in this situation, George wasn’t sure what his plan was. Stare hypnotically into its eyes until it grows bored and leaves? Ask it kindly to move so he can haul ass into the woods and escape? That was no use. He was as energetic as a slug right now, which meant that his chances of getting away relied solely on his words. He swallowed down saliva as he tried his best to sound normal.

“They… they uh, they look good, though?” He tried, his tone probably far too high-pitched. “Your eyes, that is.”

This comment struck the Beast, it looked shocked. Then, it pulled George into the most uncomfortable hug of his life. Its arms enveloped him, securing George snugly in its lap as it sat up, holding him firmly against its chest. The two were sitting completely in the shallow of the water now, the bottom half of their legs soaking wet as it made soft noises deep in its chest. George didn’t want to necessarily call it purring, but that was the closest thing he could equate it to. Whatever the noise was, it was clear that it came from a feeling of… endearment. 

George couldn’t deny the way this action made his stomach feel all weird and fluttery. Probably nerves, considering this thing was dangerous and had just murdered two people only hours ago. Though there’s no way an outsider looking in would ever figure it had done such a thing, based on the way it held George so domestically.

“… Only one. Thought I was the only one,” it said softly, lightly squeezing George as it planted its face onto his shoulder. “Without a match.”

George sucked in a quick gasp of air as its warm face hit his exposed skin. What the hell was happening? Not even five minutes ago, he was convinced it was trying to kill him, now it was hugging him. And what did it mean by “match?” George winced as his body ached in the Beast’s hold. In return the Beast merely adjusted them to get more comfortable in the shallow water. It didn’t seem too keen on breaking their embrace any time soon so George took this chance to let himself think clearly for the first time since yesterday. 

There was no doubt in George's mind that this monstrous lake creature was the Beast John Jenkins had been warning everyone about. That much was crystal clear. What puzzled George was why it hadn't finished him off yet. This creature, he was certain it was male, had made a brutal attempt on Sapnap and Karl's lives just hours ago, and it didn’t seem too concerned about hurting George at the time either. That is, until he caught its gaze. The creature shared the same eye condition as him. In fact, it even had the exact same colored eyes. So that's what it meant by a match. But why would his eyes grant him mercy while others faced death? He wasn’t dating anybody, and this thing has only ever killed couples, so it shouldn’t have given George a second thought at all. He glanced at where their bodies were pressed against each other, that weird fluttery feeling reappearing back in his midsection as a theory crossed his mind. Could it simply be because this creature equated similar eyes with compatibility? Did this Beast think that George was its… romantic match?

He winced at the revelation, masking it by pretending he was wincing from the pain in his face, causing the Beast to lean back and stare at George with concern. The Brit avoided its gaze at first, but then met its eyes a moment later. Play nice with the monster. If it really does like you, maybe it will let you go. 

“My face…” he winced. “The glass from t…the lamp. I’m hurt.”

The Beast’s face shifted into a look full of pity. Quite an unusual look on a bloodthirsty monster, he must say. Surely, it didn’t really feel bad. This was probably some attempt to… win his favor. Well, he wouldn’t be so easily swooned. Actually, he wouldn’t be swooned at all. Not by the murder fish.

It scrutinized George’s cuts carefully, tilting its head. George was certain that the sight was gnarly. Sapnap had accidentally landed a brutal blow to his face with that lightbulb. He wouldn’t be surprised if there were still bits of glass embedded in his skin. “It must look bad,” he commented, mustering a forced chuckle.

In response, the Beast frowned at him. George's heart sank as its expression soured.

“You look good,” it refuted firmly. “Perfect. Perfect for me.” It nodded, cupping his face once more as if to emphasize its point. George couldn’t attribute the warmth in his cheeks to his injuries anymore. Alright, this thing was a charmer. So what? It was still a merciless killer. It just had other motives with him. He had to remind himself: If he didn’t have heterochromia, he'd be dead.

But as its bright expression returned, and it smiled at George’s flustered reaction, he found himself having to repeat his mental reminder over and over to stay sane. 

“Thanks…” George said, looking away bashfully as he snuck a quick glance at their surroundings. It was nowhere that he was immediately familiar with, which deepened his dread and anxiety. Now that it was established that the Beast (he really needed a better name for it) wasn’t going to hurt him, his main issue was getting away from it and getting back to camp. Or rather, convincing this thing to let him get back to camp. He glanced back at the Beast and sighed.

He cleared his throat, gently attempting to lean away in order to catch a full view of its face. "Thank you for..." George paused, searching for the right words. "For being so kind. But my face... it really, really hurts," he explained, his voice laced with discomfort. "I need to get help." He tried to appear as pitiful as possible, hoping to appeal to the sympathetic side the creature seemed to have toward him. The Beast's expression softened, its features morphing as it processed George's words. Sympathy flickered in its eyes, mingling with a hint of remorse. It seemed to understand the urgency George was conveying, though he still spied traces of hesitance in its eyes.

"Leave?" It asked, sounding puzzled. George bit his bottom lip as he nodded. "But... we're a match," it insisted, holding onto George as if afraid he might slip away. Its eyes searched his face, confusion and desperation swirling in their depths. "Why go?" it whimpered, its tone pleading. Its expression became more mellow as it seemingly came to a conclusion. "My fault?" It asked, the hurt so prevalent in its tone it was like being stabbed directly in the heart. 

George blinked, surprised by its self-doubt. He shifted uncomfortably as the Beast looked at him with sadness, blaming itself for George’s rejection. It was hard to reconcile this vulnerable creature with the one that had threatened his friends’ lives just hours ago for simply being in love. For having a match while it did not. 

"No," George reassured, gently cupping the creature's scaly face once more, his tone laced with pseudo-pity. The last thing he needed was an overly emotional monster. Who knew how this thing handled its feelings? Best to calm it now and let it down gently, he supposed. "I just... I need to go. Human doctors can heal my face... and I need to check on my friends, and go home to my mom..."

"Home?!" It gasped, its sudden intensity making George flinch. The Brit trembled as the creature's tone became far too insistent for his liking. "This is home," it declared firmly, now holding George's face with both of its hands as it desperately searched his gaze with its matching one. “I’m your match, you’re mine!” Forlorn dripped from its tone as it all but begged George to stay.

George swallowed hard, feeling a surge of unease as the creature's grip on him tightened slightly. "I understand, but... I really need to go," he insisted, trying to maintain a gentle tone despite the growing tension in the air. He was becoming less and less sure of his chances for escape. The Beast was stubborn in its liking of him, and seemed determined to successfully convince him to stay, much to his dismay. If he was going to persuade it to let him go, he’d have to make it feel as bad as possible. It was the only way. “I’m hurt and… and people will come looking for me. People I miss a lot…” He shifted uncomfortably, acutely aware of the disappointment radiating from its intense gaze.

The Beast's expression faltered, a flicker of hurt crossing its features. For a moment, George thought that it was going to snap, or hiss at him in anger. He was frozen in anticipation as it silently deliberated to itself, cradling him like a lost treasure it never wanted to let go. 

Suddenly, George found himself being lifted off the creature's lap and being placed onto the muddy, rocky ground below. He blinked in surprise, mud splattering across the back of his clothes as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. Fuck. I made it mad. I shouldn’t have pushed its kindness. George looked up at the towering creature now looming before him, feeble arms tense and at the ready in case it attacked. He was fully expecting to be met with anger; instead the creature didn't spare him even a single glance as it rose to its feet and moved away, leaving George sitting in the shallow water, feeling utterly bewildered, yet relieved at the newfound space. 

George watched the creature stalk further into the water, its movements tense and erratic. It seemed to be scanning the pond intently, perhaps even desperately, as its tail lashed behind it with restless energy. Every once in a while it would lean down and dig through the water in search of… something. He wasn’t sure what it was doing. Was this a tantrum? Was it blowing off steam? Was it looking for a place to bury his body?

He remained frozen in place, unsure of what to do. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had upset the creature, triggering this sudden change in behavior. He heavily considered making a break for it while it was distracted, though he brushed that thought off the moment he tried to pull himself to his feet. He was annoyingly weak, and any attempt at escape would surely result in his capture. Instead, he stayed put, his eyes trained on the Beast as it maneuvered through the pond water. George's confusion grew as he watched the creature collect smooth rocks and other bits of shells. Its actions seemed oddly deliberate, as if each item was chosen with a sense of purpose. The Beast appeared entirely focused on its task, as if it were performing some kind of important ritual, as if each selection was crucial and precise, giving George the impression that this process was of great importance to the creature, though he couldn't understand why. 

After what felt like ages of watching the Beast rummage through the water, it finally stalked back toward him, hands full of an array of rocks and shells. It knelt to one knee before him, eagerly presenting the treasures it had collected. With an expectant and almost desperate look in its eyes, it held out the assortment of rocks and shells for George to inspect, as if they were the most precious gifts in the world.

George cast the Beast a confused glance, trying to understand what was happening. In return, it thrust its palms closer to George with an insistent nod. 

“For you,” it said. 

George’s hands trembled as he cupped his palms together to collect the gifts in his hands. “Th… thanks,” he whispered as he gazed down at the assortment of pebbles and shells. The rocks were surprisingly smooth to the touch and nearly perfectly round. And the mini shells were beautiful, a quality he wouldn’t expect to find from a dingy little pond in the woods. George looked back up at the Beast where it knelt before him. 

“What for?” George questioned. 

In response, the Beast gently enveloped George's hands with its own large, webbed ones, carefully closing them over the gifts. As their hands touched, George noticed a shift in the creature's demeanor—a vulnerability he hadn't seen before. Embarrassment flickered across its features as it, for once, avoided George’s stare.

“Gifts,” it said. “Special gifts. Found the best ones. For you. I’m a good finder, good hunter. I take care of you.” 

The Brit sputtered as he looked down at their entwined hands, a fierce feeling of warmth spreading throughout his body as he realized what these little pebbles and shells were meant to symbolize. 

“Courting gifts?!” He asked outright, so shocked by the gesture that he had to make sure he wasn’t going crazy and out of his mind. The Beast nodded, flashing George its sharp-toothed smile. It appeared pleased that George had connected the dots and understood what it was proposing to him. The man sucked in a gasp of air as he shook his head, mostly in disbelief, as he tried to think of the best, safest way of getting out of this. Fuck. Maybe I shouldn’t have played nice with the monster. Now it wants to put some weird, romantic lake monster claim on me. 

"Please stay," the Beast pleaded once more as George shook his head, its tone now heavy with longing rather than desperation. "Need you… been so alone for so long… nobody to be a match," it explained through its broken English, its words tinged in loneliness. As it rubbed George's thumb with its own, a deep sigh escaped its lips as its brow furrowed. "Surrounded by matches every warm season. Constant reminder of loneliness," it spat, its tail thrashing angrily in the water behind it as if recalling memories of past summers filled with the sight of happy couples by its territory. 

George's eyes widened as the Beast continued, its words taking on a darker tone with each passing moment.

"Makes me angry. So angry. Could never get what they had, so I took them away."

The images conveyed by the Beast's words sent a shiver down George's spine, trying to focus on the weight of their connected hands, instead of the disturbing pictures that threatened to play in his mind. Though try as he might, he could not ignore the mental pictures of John Jenkins, his face marred by trauma and suffering, his eye patch a constant reminder of the horrors inflicted by the Beast. Keaton and Helen, two young lovers whose lifeless, eyeless bodies will never be found, their lives cut short for the crime of simply loving each other. Their fate, as well as plenty of others before them, sealed by the jealousy of a monster. And then there were Sapnap and Karl, whose lives hung in the balance until the fortunate coincidence of George's eye color, a trait that just so happened to attract the monster, spared them from a similar fate. With a gulp, he swallowed his unease, unsure of how to respond to the creature's words, the feeling of its scaly hands around his now reminding him of holding the hand of a corpse instead of warm comfort. 

“But now,” it smiled, perking back up. “I have you.” And the way it spoke to him was so earnest, so raw. It really, really wanted to successfully court George, and the Brit was confident that even if he continued to deny it, it would keep trying harder and harder. 

And what would happen if he said no?

He wasn’t worried about the Beast hurting him, not anymore. Surely, it would not kill the person it sees as a compatible partner, or at least he hoped. What he was really worried about was how it would take George’s rejection out on other people. If he said no, what’s to stop the Beast from killing again? From going right back into camp and massacring more, maybe even finishing off Sapnap and Karl? The reason it was murdering people in the first place was because it had no mate. No match. If George said yes… then it would never have a reason to hurt anyone again.

This made him feel conflicted. Was it his duty to accept its proposal to save the lives of others? If he said no, he might be inadvertently causing the deaths of many, many more. 

God, how did he manage to get into this mess? This kind of moral dilemma shouldn’t be happening to him… to anyone! All he wanted was to make friends and go home, and maybe come back next year to see them again. 

Next year… George perked up, his eyes widening as an idea flashed in his mind. Perhaps he didn’t have to give up all of his freedom to stop the murders. He looked back up at the Beast, directly into its mismatched eyes as he barely let himself ponder on his thought before letting it flow.

“I have to go back,” George stated, a surprising amount of confidence evident in his tone. This prompted a loud whine to erupt from the Beast’s throat. He could see how it physically tensed at George’s answer, how it shifted uncomfortably, surely about to beg him once more. But George cut it off before it could. 

“But, if you let me go now, I’ll gladly come back here every summer to be with you.” His heart skipped a beat as the seriousness of the situation hung over them. This was all in his plan, though actually saying the words out loud made him realize just how severe the implications were. 

A single season of putting up with a lovesick monster was a small price to pay for what could’ve been the loss of dozens more lives. Sure, he was sort of giving up half a year of his freedom for the foreseeable future, but what choice did he have? In his eyes, this was probably the best, most peaceful outcome from this situation.  

The Beast stared at him, its gaze unblinking as it locked onto him. He could see the way it was mentally deliberating, its nose slightly scrunched as it thought George’s proposition through. 

“All summer?” It asked, its head tilted slightly.

“Yes. All summer long, every single summer from here on out.” George strained to hide the break in his voice as he tried to keep his facade of confidence strong. He hoped this thing couldn’t sense his fear. 

“B-but,” he quickly added, “You can’t kill or hurt anyone else, or the deal is off.”

It smiled once more. “No taking away,” it agreed with a small nod. “You come back? Be my match?” It asked, wanting confirmation.

George's breath hitched in his throat, a shaky exhale escaping his lips as the Beast's hand slid from around his own to the back of his neck. Its touch was gentle yet undeniably present, sending a shiver down George's spine as it inched itself closer to his face.  

“Yes.”

With that simple word, the Beast released a heavy, warm sigh of relief, its breath washing over George’s face. Its eyes dilated with a mix of gratitude and relief as it closed the distance between them, resting its forehead against George's own. In that intimate moment, George felt a rush of anticipation, his heart fluttering as he half-expected the creature to lean in for a kiss.

But the Beast refrained, maintaining the tender contact without crossing that boundary. Perhaps it didn't express affection in the same way humans did, George reasoned, but he couldn't deny the sensation in his chest at the mere thought of it. It was a strange and unexpected feeling, one that left him questioning his feelings and sense of dignity altogether. 

What would I have done if it did kiss me?

He didn’t have time to unpack that can of worms before he was suddenly grabbed and lifted into big, scaly arms, holding him bridal style. He automatically wrapped his arms around its neck as he let out a sudden yelp of surprise, the Beast chuckling in response as it made sure its hold on him was secure before stalking back into the trees.

…

The last thing that the Beast did for him was slide a pebble and shell into George’s pocket before putting him down near the camp. George didn’t spare the Beast a single glance as he hobbled the rest of the way there, though he could still feel its lingering gaze watching him from the cover of the trees. 

He was surprised when he was suddenly bombarded by a swarm of cameras and microphones being thrust into his face upon entering the camp clearing. Questions came at him from all angles, but he could barely muster the energy to make sense of them. The media must have been alerted to the events of last night and booked it over here as early as possible, eager to be at the scene of the crime. Finally, the police intervened, pulling him away from the chaos and into a quiet room in the counselor's lodge. There, they bombarded him with questions while they waited for an ambulance to arrive.

They fired off questions left and right, wanting every detail of what happened. "What went down in your room last night?" they demanded. "Where did they take you?" "What did the person who grabbed you look like?" George felt overwhelmed by the onslaught, each question a painful reminder of the nightmare he'd just endured. But he held it together, sticking to the story he'd rehearsed on his way back to camp.

Obviously, he wasn’t going to tell the police that a giant lake monster had kidnapped him out of an act of love and let him go on the promise that he’d return. So, he bent the truth a little bit. Instead of a murderous monster, he was dragged away by a freakishly tall man with a weird skin condition, making him look like some beast . He was all too lucky to take the man off guard when he ran out of the old cabin he had brought him to where he lost him in the woods and had been wandering around hopelessly lost until he happened to hear the sounds of the media, which guided him back.

This was also the story that he shared publicly upon being escorted back outside and to the arriving ambulance.

The events that followed unfolded in a blur of activity. George found himself whisked away to the hospital, where he underwent treatment for his face as well as other sustained injuries and endured yet another round of interviews with the police and reporters alike, all while confined to his hospital bed. After several hours of much-needed rest, he was finally deemed fit to leave the confines of medical care. It was during this time that he received news of Sapnap and Karl's presence in the same hospital.

As a nurse escorted him to their room, she provided a brief update on their conditions. Karl had regained consciousness a few hours earlier and seemed to be doing fine, but Sapnap remained unable to speak due to severe injuries to his throat, resembling wounds inflicted by small knives. The image of the Beast's claws caressing his cheek flashed through George's mind, but he pushed aside all thoughts of the creature as they neared the door to his friends' room.

With a gentle knock, the nurse announced their arrival, and they were welcomed into the room by a familiar voice.

“Karl!” George cried as soon as he saw his friend sitting by Sapnap’s hospital bed. 

“George?!”

George rushed into the room, darting past the nurse as he made a beeline for Karl, enveloping the boy in a tight embrace. Karl, without missing a single beat, returned the hug with equal fervor as they both sobbed in each other's arms. They remained locked together for what felt like an eternity, neither of them wanting to let go. 

Eventually, when they finally pulled away, George realized that the nurse had discreetly exited the room, leaving them alone with Sapnap, who watched them with wide eyes from his hospital bed, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. 

Karl cupped George’s face with both of his hands, and George found himself leaning into the touch instead of pulling away like he usually did. It felt nice to be comforted by a familiar friend instead of a monster. Karl’s tears flowed down his cheeks as he gazed at George with relieved confusion. Here came the worst part: the explanation.

“Wh… what? How are…? How are you here? Are you okay? What happened? Did it let you go? Did you run away?” George couldn’t help but laugh at the onslaught of concerned questions being hauled at him by his friend. 

“I’m fine,” he reassured. “Are you okay?” George glanced at the bandage wrapped around Karl’s head. 

“Mildly concussed, but fine,” the boy shrugged, moving some hair off of his forehead. “But I don’t know why you’re worrying about me when you just survived a serial killing Beast!” Karl cried, moving his hands from George’s face to his shoulders. 

George shushed him, motioning for him to lower his voice as he cast a nervous glance toward the shut door, hoping that nobody had heard him from the other side. 

“Actually,” George whispered, leaning closer to Karl. “I survived a human lunatic with a weird skin condition. At least that’s what everybody else is going to think.” He glanced between Karl and Sapnap, an awkward smile plastered onto his face as he silently prayed the two would go along with his fake story. 

“You’re not going to tell everybody the truth?!” Karl asked, thankfully quieter this time. “George, there’s a seven-foot-tall lake monster in the woods! I-if we don’t tell everybody, then we might as well be begging for it to kill again!” 

George shook his head. “No, don’t worry about that. I… It won’t kill again. Trust me.”

His gaze fell to the floor as the echoes of his deal with the Beast reverberated through his mind. He subconsciously felt over his pocket where the courting gifts remained close to him. A subtle yet firm reminder of his deal. 

A tapping sound grabbed his attention. George looked over at Sapnap, who was impatiently tapping on a hard part of his bed. He was looking at George with nothing short of pure confusion. He reached beside himself and pulled out a whiteboard and marker, something the hospital probably gave him so he could communicate. He impatiently scribbled something down before flipping the board for George to read.

What happened? Sapnap asked. 

George frowned as he glanced between Karl and Sapnap, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. He knew there was no avoiding the inevitable conversation, no matter how desperately he wished to shield his friends from the events that had unfolded in the woods, and himself from letting the memories play over and over again in his mind. The memories still felt raw, reliving the moment when he found himself in the Beast's embrace, their eyes intently locked for what felt like ever.

His scarred cheeks flushed crimson with embarrassment as he recalled the overwhelming rush of emotions that had washed over him in that moment, emotions he struggled to articulate even now. How could he ever put what happened into words in a way his friends would understand? In a way that would shield himself from judgment? 

“It didn’t want to kill me.” He decided to start with the most important detail. 

“I woke up, and it was just… laying there asleep. By me.” George fiddled with his fingers as he purposefully excluded the fact that it had been spooning him. He knew that he was bending the truth, and he felt bad for it, but still continued on.

“I tried to sneak away, but it woke up a-and chased me until I literally couldn’t run anymore. I didn’t know what was gonna happen until it… spoke.”

Karl sputtered out a noise of confusion at this, arms out and hands up in confusion as he stared at George with bewilderment. As if George were the one with head damage. This is the reaction George feared the most, where nobody believed him.

“It’s true!” he insisted before Karl could say anything or Sapnap could write anything. “I swear on everything that it’s true! Please, please believe me,” he begged, tears welling up and daring to fall down scarred, stitched-up cheeks. Was this how Whacko John Jenkins felt all these years?

"It was the scariest thing that's ever happened to me!" George's voice trembled with emotion, his words teetering on the edge of a yell, despite his earlier attempts to keep the conversation quiet. "I... I didn't know what to do, or what to think. I thought I was going crazy myself, but it spoke. It spoke, and it told me that it didn't kill me because of my eyes!" 

The anguish in George's voice was palpable as he recounted the terrifying encounter, his hands shaking as he struggled to contain his emotions. “If it weren’t for me having the same eyes as… as that thing we would all be dead right now! If it weren’t for me killing off my dignity and agreeing to go back and visit with it again, it would’ve kept killing! What was I supposed to do, leave and live knowing that I could’ve done something to stop it?! I didn't want this. It's not fair! Why did it have to be me? Why?!”

With a whimper, George brought his palms up to his swollen eyes, determined to stop the flow of tears that threatened to spill over. He had shed enough already, and he refused to let himself break down any further.

But when warm hands gently grasped his wrists and brought his hands away from his eyes, there wasn’t much he could do to stop the tears from falling. Karl was crying too. He was looking at George with so much sympathy, so much care. It was exactly what he needed in this moment as he, for the first time, let out his emotions in full. He outright sobbed, letting all of the ugly sounds out as he clutched onto his friend desperately. He didn’t realize how truly shaken up the encounter had left him until now. 

There were many emotions hanging in the air, but it seemed impossible to put into words how deeply George's experience had affected him. He was so overcome with humiliation that he was unable to share the whole account of his encounter. He couldn't bring himself to disclose the gestures of affection and romance the creature had displayed, how it had tried to charm and court him in its own peculiar way. To admit such would be to confront the unsettling reality that, in a sense, the creature had sort of succeeded in winning George's favor—a thought that filled him with conflicting emotions.

This turmoil within him was driving him crazy. He couldn't make sense of his feelings, the simultaneous revulsion and fascination, the fear and desire that warred within his heart. How could he possibly admit to being so drawn to such a monstrous being? Was he drawn to it? Or was this some kind of morbid desperation for attention he was confusing for genuine interest?

Whatever he was feeling didn’t matter. No matter what, next summer, he would be going back into the woods anyway. Who knew what the Beast had planned for him?

After he calmed down a bit, he pulled away from Karl and sniffled, wiping his tears as he sighed, relieved to finally get those emotions out. A squeaking sound caught his attention, and he turned to watch Sapnap—who was noticeably misty in the eyes as well, write something down on his whiteboard before flipping it over for George to see. 

George. You are so brave. Without you, we’d both be dead. I’m so sorry I couldn’t help you. Sapnap said, his expression heavy with regret and hand rubbing against his bandaged throat as he watched George, waiting for his reaction.

George whined, lips quivering as he contained another round of sobbing behind a gentle smile. Wordlessly, he made his way to Sapnap’s bed and leaned over him, carefully wrapping his arms around the man’s shoulders as they did an awkwardly-angled hug. He felt additional warmth join them, smiling widening as Karl joined the group hug.

“It’s okay,” George said after a few moments, pulling away so he could look at them both. “As long as I see it every summer, the killings and attacks should stop forever.”

Sapnap gave him a look before erasing the whiteboard once more and scribbling down more sloppily written words. So you’re not in any danger? Sapnap asked.

George shook his head. Sapnap looked down at his whiteboard once more, marker squeaking on the surface before flipping it over once more. Ok, good. I don’t want you to sacrifice your life for us or something. That would suck :( 

George snorted in reply, shrugging nonchalantly.  “I guess I’d sacrifice my life for you idiots any time.”

Karl let out an amused scoff. “Idiots?” He echoed, putting on a fake tone of offense. “Can’t believe you’d call us idiots after a traumatizing event like that! Learn to read a room, George.”

They all laughed, Sapnap more so wheezing and coughing as he gripped his throat painfully. Hopefully, he will heal soon and be able to speak normally again. He wasn’t sure if he could stand having to listen to a Sapnap who sounds like he’s been smoking for sixty years, or communicating through a whiteboard. 

Speaking of, Sapnap was back to scribbling away on that thing. 

But seriously, its motive for trying to kill us was literally because it didn’t have a friend with the same colored eyes? What does it even want with you? To stare lovingly into your gaze? 

Karl burst out laughing at this, while George forced an uncomfortable smile onto his lips as he rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Yeah, I-I’m pretty sure that was its only motive,” George responded, prompting Karl to laugh harder. He was sure they probably sounded like they were going crazy, laughing right after such a traumatizing occurrence, at something that was arguably not even funny. Maybe humor was just their coping mechanism. 

He avoided Sapnap’s other questions on purpose, but thankfully, the man didn’t seem to take notice in the moment as he watched his boyfriend crack up endearingly. George remembered when the Beast had looked at him that way just hours before.

A knock on the door interrupted their laughter. A moment later the same nurse from earlier poked her head through the open door. 

“Hi, boys! Sorry to interrupt, but you have some visitors.”

Right after she said those words, two familiar faces walked through the open door, holding bouquets of flowers and enough balloons to carry the entire hospital away. Karl squealed in joy as he raced to meet them halfway into the room. 

“Parker! Sylvee!” He wrapped his arms around both of them as they returned his gesture, some of the balloons flying up to the ceiling as a result. 

“Karl! George! Sapnap! Oh my God, I knew you guys weren’t dead!” Sylvee exclaimed. “I kept telling mister pessimism over here that you’d all be fine.” She glanced over at Parker, who scoffed and rolled his eyes in response. 

“I never said that they wouldn’t be fine!” He refuted. “Stop putting words in my mouth!” 

“So what happened to you, George?” Sylvee questioned, turning her attention to him where he leaned against the end of Sapnap’s bed. “Did the Beast get you?” Her tone was teasing as she gave the Brit a grin. 

George exchanged a knowing glance between Sapnap and Karl, biting back a smirk as he searched for the best way to respond. He was about to come up with something on the spot before Karl cut him off. 

“Nah, just some psycho with a weird skin condition,” the boy said. Sylvee and Parker looked at each other, eyes wide as they easily bought the story. Karl glanced back at George, giving him a wink as George smiled at him gratefully. The secret was safe with them. 

…

Stepping into his own room felt like a breath of fresh air after weeks of sharing a stuffy dorm without air conditioning. Don't get him wrong, hanging out with Sapnap and Karl had been a blast, but George had really been missing his own space. 

After everything that went down, having some alone time was exactly what he needed. Closing the door behind him, George let out a sigh of relief, soaking in the quiet of his own room. It was a little slice of heaven in the midst of all the craziness, and he was going to enjoy every moment of it. Flopping down onto his bed, he couldn't help but smile at the familiar comfort of his own surroundings.

When George arrived home, he was met not just by his parents but by his entire family. His sister, aunts, uncles, and cousins—all the way from England—had flown in upon hearing about what happened to George. It was a whirlwind of hugs, kisses, and questions, the whole scene almost as overwhelming as the media frenzy he'd faced just the day before. Thankfully, his family knew when enough was enough, and George was able to slip away and head into his own room as everyone left with promises of returning tomorrow for a proper family get-together. Something about remembering to be grateful for your family because you never knew how much longer you had with them; he wasn’t really paying attention, more focused on the thought of laying in his bed than anything else. 

He turned to lay on his side when he felt something prick his leg. With a raised brow, George sat up, digging his hand into his pocket, and pulled out a rock and a shell. For a long moment, George stared at the trinkets in his palm. Amidst the familiarity of his room, they really stuck out. They weren’t just a reminder of camp, they were undeniable proof that the events that happened there were real. Everything was real. Though he may feel comfortable and normal now, it wouldn’t last forever. Summer would come once more, and he would go back. Back into the arms of the Beast. 

George glanced up, looking into the mirror that stood against the wall at the edge of his bed. He took a good, long look at himself, at his disheveled uncut hair, the red scars lining his face, and his eyes. The very reason he was able to be safely at home at all. Gingerly, George brought his free hand up to his face and cupped his cheek, sighing as he closed his eyes and just sat there silently for a while. 

It seemed like every time he closed his eyes now, a matching, mismatched pair would be there, piercing through the darkness of his mind with a burning intensity that he couldn’t shake. 

The Beast. That name repeated over and over in his head, filling every corner of his thoughts with their brief time together. The way it held him so comfortably in slumber, the way it looked at him, the way their bodies brushed against each other, the words it said to him. I’m your match, you’re mine. 

The longer George thought about the Beast, the more he hated how that name sounded. The Beast. Such an evil name. A name birthed from the seed of fear and hatred for the creature should not be how he referred to it. It felt wrong. If he was going to spend the rest of his summers subduing the creature, he should have a nicer, more fitting name for it. A name that didn’t connect the creature that longed for a partner, swooning for him by the pond with the monstrous Lakeside Eye Gouger. But what?

He opened his eyes, yawning as he stood off of his bed and walked across his room, carefully cupping the items in his hand to his chest as he approached his window. Gentle rain pitter-pattered against the glass, accompanied only by the sound of distant thunder as he placed his gifts on the window sill.

George rubbed his eyes as he made his way back to his bed, flopping himself onto it once more as he sighed into his pillows, snuggling under his blankets and letting himself relax. He was too tired to think right now. Besides, he had the next three seasons to think of a good name. 

With that, he let himself fall into a light slumber. 

He could hear everything despite being presently at rest. He listened to the soft pitter-patter of rain on the closed window in the real world, even though his mind was back in the woods. It didn’t look any different from the real woods, or at least not that he could tell in his unconscious state.

Pitter Patter.

George looked around carefully. The trees towered over him, growing so high that they extended far past the range at which his vision could see. Their shadows enveloped him, the darkness thick, yet George could see everything around him, as if there was some invisible light source illuminating his surroundings. Was it him giving off the light?

Pitter Patter. Tap. Tap.

Wait, this wasn’t right. How was he back here? He couldn’t be back here—he was just in his room back at his house. George sucked in a quick gasp of air, blinking rapidly. That’s because he was home. He never left, he was just dreaming. He spun around, unease growing as he turned in circles, searching for anything other than the endless sea of trees. That’s when he registered another sound. Something different than the raindrops from outside.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Creak.

George turned around, his body feeling weightless as he tried to identify the source of the noise. He was becoming more and more frantic as he looked around, the peace from sleep being replaced by panic as the trees seemed to slowly be closing in on him, their looming heights and deep shadows making him feel utterly small and helpless as he began to lose his balance. It was becoming increasingly hard to breathe now. George sucked in deep gasps of air, feeling like they weren’t enough as he spun, and spun, and spun. Those taps getting louder, and louder, and louder but he could not find the source. What was happening? He reached out his arms, helplessly trying to stabilize himself before he spun out of control, and he felt his body falling, falling, falling. Sure to hit the rough ground of the forest floor.

Tap. Tap. Tap. CREAK.

But the impact never came. 

George's eyes fluttered open, his gaze met not by the shadowy canopy of trees, but by the endless expanse of blue sky above. Blinking slowly, he lay still, taking in the vastness of the heavens stretched out before him. Yet, even as he gazed at the sight, a prickling sensation crept up his spine, a nagging feeling that he was not alone.

He felt his body sit up, his gaze being pulled away from the sky as he looked ahead of him. And right there, inches away from his face, his dream gaze stared right back at him. The mismatched gaze looked deep into his, so transfixed. It was like watching someone discover light for the first time. 

George gasped for air once more as he was pulled out of his dream and back to reality. The room was heavy with darkness. 

Though it did not conceal the intruder inside.

George flinched, instinctively backing himself into his pillows as an intense green and blue gaze stared him down from the foot of his bed, their focus solely on George where he lay. His heart raced, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. How was it here? How did it find him? Did it change its mind about their deal? 

Did it want him now?

He was just about to open his mouth and scream, when he realized that the stare from the intruder was level with his own gaze. The creature was far taller than George, and at this angle of him lying on his bed, it should've been towering over him. He tilted his head inquisitively, and the eyes mirrored his movements exactly. That's when he remembered that he had a mirror against that wall. With a sudden rush of relief, George realized that he wasn't staring into the eyes of an intruder, but rather his own reflection mounted on the wall, his own gaze illuminated by the moonlight pouring in from the window.

George pushed a hand through his hair, trying to regain his cool. Fuck, having dreams like that better not be a regular occurrence from now on. 

He shook his head, forcing a chuckle at his overreaction. Obviously, the creature wasn’t here. George lived miles away from Camp Lakeside, and following him would be a crazy thing for it to do. 

George rolled onto his side, facing the side of his room where his window was. He settled into the pillows and blankets once more, forcing composure over himself. He was already feeling the fatigue he’d accumulated over the past days wearing down on him, and he was ready to welcome the post-camp slumber with open arms and sleep for two days straight. 

Right as he went to blink his eyes closed, something grabbed his attention, forcing him to sit upright to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. 

Did he leave his window open?

Surely not, he could’ve sworn he locked it. He just put his gifts on the sill. It was definitely closed. George pushed the blanket off of him as he gingerly stepped onto the cold floor and inched over to the window. It was cracked open, not wide enough to let in a lot of rain, but enough to get that part of his room wet. He frowned, closing it and making sure the hatch was locked. 

George looked down at the sill, and surely enough, his gifts were still there. Though they were soaked to the brim with rainwater now. George grabbed them in his hand, rubbing them against his shirt to dry them off and examining them curiously once he was done.

His heart sank when he realized.

Since when did he have an extra pebble and shell?

George, with a shaky hand, sat the trinkets back onto the sill. He grabbed ahold of it to steady himself as his gaze lifted back up and out of the window. He stared into the trees outside, scanning the edge of them for a familiar, beastly form. But there was nothing. Whatever was out there was gone. 

George trembled, feeling faint as his reflection stared back at him in the glass, his gaze eerily similar to the gaze that watched him in his dreams. 

In his dreams.

His eyes widened, as he let out a shaky sigh, stepping away from the window and heading back to his bed, angling his body away from the window as he got under the blankets once more. 

George regarded himself as an average person. After explaining his eyes and why he had a British accent in Florida, he had nothing interesting to bring up about himself. He had average grades, an average height, and an average personality. But in the end, it was his eyes that saved his life. And many others, too. 

Fall and winter would come and go, spring time would bring the starting traces of warmth, and then it would be summer. George would go back, like he said that he would, and there it would be to meet him. Ready for an entire summer of having George all to itself.

See you then, Dream.