Shattered

chapter one

Air.

That's what I'm thinking as I propel myself through the water, my arms slicing through the azure in clean, balanced strokes.

I need air.

It's instinct: the taught exhilaration in your chest, the burn in your lungs as you fight toward the surface of the water. One too many seconds under, and you're a goner.

Under the surface, it's calm.

It's a loophole in this damned world, a place where everything is muted and all the pain is subdued, being carried away by the lulling of the water as you streamline yourself to the other end. And the triumph that courses through your veins when you reach the other side is incomparable to any other sensation.

Air...

Reality is blurred into a concoction of monochrome as I break through the surface of the pool, gasping. The streak between underwater and the chaos that is life is broken: the cacophony of awkwardly splashing seventh-graders and the furious hollering of the gym teachers envelope me as I hoist myself onto the edge of the pool, my dark hair dripping wet, my toes in the water, my legs swinging and my heart racing with the exhilaration that I so admire about swimming.

There's something about it that gives me my place in the world, this noisy, pressurising world. When you are so miniscule a portion of the planet, when you have no right to change and they have no right to believe. Streetlights, depths, gloom. I've witnessed everything with such a heavy burden on my shoulders. The world wants me to disappear, the world goes against me.

The darkest parts of a million hues at my feet is my safe haven. The deepest to others is the brightest to me.

Comfort.

Air.

Decisions.

This body shouldn't belong to me. This body wants to venture to the cruellest piercing waters. But my mind shouldn't listen to the body, but the other way round. I'm not built like anyone else.

I've come from splinters to cuts to wounds of sizes I could never imagine I'd tolerate. I hate that when I describe how I feel they always reply with "I've gone through worse." Things I shouldn't think go through my head while the coldness pierces at my feet mercilessly. To me now, everything was below zero, the world can't break what's already broken.

Underneath, it's the only place that welcomes me, or at least doesn't chase me away. It's clear. It's thorough. I think in my own zone of mind. I realise what I've been through. My eyes open slowly, ignoring the sharp dagger-like water that stings my eyes as I dip my head back under, leaving those goggles behind, alone on the platform. What surrounds me is that immense floatation of dark threads, my very own hair. What also envelopes me is my flashbacks. Water is cruel to you. But never as cruel as the world. Perhaps I could consider that kind.

Air.

I need air.

But then, I always needed air didn't I? Blurry voices of different students led by the teachers seem to surround me. I feel all eyes on me. But I know my only sense of belonging would break as soon as I lift my head above the water. It all seems so slow, though so fast. My life is playing out right in front of my eyes.

Air.

I'm light-headed.

Air.

I'm breathing air.

I try to calm myself down, to tone down the palette of chaotic monochrome that this world is.

Then-

'Chelsea!'