Submerge

D R A I N E D

M A S O N

The relentless ticking of the clock in my room felt like a countdown, each second marking my descent deeper into a chasm of guilt and despair. The walls were adorned with reminders of a past life – swimming trophies, photos of happier times, all now eclipsed by the haunting memory of Emma.

I couldn't escape the thought that gnawed at me day and night – if only I had been faster, stronger in the water. Maybe then Emma would still be here. The guilt was a relentless wave, crashing over me, dragging me down into the dark depths of what-ifs and if-onlys.

Nathan had called again. His voice, once a source of comfort, now felt like an accusation. He didn't know, couldn't know, the burden of my guilt. How could I face him, face anyone, when I was drowning in my own self-loathing?

The pain of Emma's absence was a constant ache, a void that nothing could fill. In a desperate attempt to feel something else, anything else, I had turned to the one thing that promised escape – pain. The sharp sting, the brief flash of physical agony, was a momentary relief from the relentless emotional torment.

I sat on the edge of my bed, the blade from my desk in my hand. It was a dangerous game, a dance with self-destruction, but in those moments of pain, the guilt and grief were eclipsed by something more primal, more immediate.

A knock at the door jolted me from my thoughts. I quickly hid the blade. "Mason, can I come in?" It was Nathan's voice, tinged with worry.

"Not now, Nathan," I called out, my voice hoarse.

"I'm worried about you, Mason. We all are. You haven't been..."

"I said not now!" I cut him off, my voice rising in a mix of anger and desperation. I couldn't face him, not like this, not with my guilt laid bare and my self-inflicted wounds a testament to my weakness.

I heard his sigh through the door, a sound heavy with unspoken pain. "Alright, Mason. But we need to talk. Soon."

After he left, I was alone again with my thoughts, a dangerous place to be. The room felt like a prison, the memories like jailers. Emma's laughter, her bright eyes, her unwavering belief in me – all of it haunted me.

As night fell, the darkness in my room mirrored the darkness within me. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, the blade still within reach. It was a false friend, a treacherous ally, but in my world of pain and guilt, it was the only thing that made sense.

I thought about the party, about Ethan's attempts to reach out, Mia's bright smile. They were all part of a world I no longer felt a part of. I was on the outside, looking in, a ghost in my own life.

The thought of what I was becoming, what I had already become, was a spiral that pulled me further down. I was lost in a sea of grief, guilt, and self-hatred, a shipwreck of what I once was.

As the night deepened, so did the sense of despair. There was no way out, no light in the darkness. I was trapped in a cycle of pain and remorse, a cycle that I had no idea how to break.

--

The return to school felt like stepping into a surreal world, one where everything seemed normal on the surface, but beneath, a current of disarray churned relentlessly. The hallways were filled with the usual chatter and laughter, a stark contrast to the silence that had become my constant companion.

As I walked through the crowded corridors, I felt a thousand eyes on me, each glance a piercing reminder of my isolation. I was the boy who had lost his sister, the swimmer who had fallen from grace. Whispers followed me like shadows, their words a blend of pity and curiosity.

In class, I sat at the back, my presence barely acknowledged. The teacher's words were a dull hum in the background, insignificant against the turmoil inside me. The seat next to me, once occupied by Emma, was a gaping void. Her absence was a physical pain, a constant ache that no amount of time could dull.

Lunchtime was an exercise in avoidance. I found a secluded spot under a tree, away from the curious gazes and well-meaning approaches. The loneliness was a shroud, but it was preferable to the pretense of normalcy.

As I sat there, lost in my thoughts, a shadow fell over me. Looking up, I saw Ethan standing there, his expression a mix of concern and hesitation. "Can I sit?" he asked, his voice gentle.

I nodded, not trusting my voice. Ethan sat down, maintaining a respectful distance. We ate in silence, the unspoken words hanging heavy between us.

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. As we stood up, Ethan hesitated. "Mason, I just want you to know that if you ever need to talk, I'm here. No judgments, just an ear."

I looked at him, his sincerity clear in his eyes. It was a lifeline, one I wasn't sure I deserved or was ready to grasp. "Thanks," I managed to say, the word feeling foreign.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. The final bell rang, and as the students filed out, I lingered in the classroom, the weight of decision heavy on my shoulders. The idea of going home, back to the silence and memories, was suffocating.

On impulse, I headed to the one place I had avoided for months – the swimming pool. The familiar scent of chlorine hit me as I entered, a rush of memories flooding back. The pool was empty, the surface of the water a mirror reflecting the overhead lights.

I stood at the edge, my heart pounding. This had been my sanctuary, my escape. Now, it felt like standing on the edge of a precipice. The water called to me, a siren song to a drowning man.

In a moment of reckless abandon, I stripped off my clothes and dove in. The cold water enveloped me, a shock to my system. I began to swim, each stroke a battle against the pain, the guilt, the memories.

As I reached the other end of the pool, I emerged, gasping for air. The rush of the swim, the physical exertion, it was exhilarating and terrifying. For a moment, I felt alive, free from the chains of my grief.

But as I looked up, my eyes met a sight that froze me in place. Standing at the other end of the pool, watching me, was...