Drowning With You

CH. 1 ❄️

WINTER

Water is such a big mystery. Some think they'll sink to the bottom; others think it will wash them away.

People tend to keep their eyes closed once they're under, they're scared to try, scared they'll die. That's when it's dark and scary. You are stuck in an unknown place. People don't understand.

If you open your eyes, you realize it's not just a black void but an entire world open to your existence, if you want it to be.

When I'm swimming, there's nothing but me and the water. We are one. It's my thing. I feel at peace in the world. When I dive off of those blocks, I'm flying through the water.

Gravity isn't gone in the water, there is still a force that pushes an object down, but in water, there is buoyancy. The buoyancy pushes the object up. As humans, our living bodies stay there.

Of course, there is more science to this, but when we swim, we fly. It's magic, in my eyes. It's a reminder that we are alive. That we are free.

I love it. It's my home. Nobody around me matters when I am sprinting through, my body gliding in the water. When I'm out of the water, the people around me mean everything.

This team is my family here. Without it, I am nothing.

Which is why I am now in detention. Every Saturday for the next three months, until school is out.

It was either this or getting kicked off the team, so of course I chose this option. By the graces of all gods, I am able to keep my team captain position, too. Coach Naomi is out there saving my ass, way too much.

Sure, getting into a fist fight with one of my teammates is shitty and I deserved to be kicked off, but there were no serious injuries, so I guess the dean let us off this once. Wild.

So now, in the basement of the library building, I am sitting at a desk in the middle of the room. Alone. Although I know she's coming, because she's the one who started the fight. Well, physically, that is.

I look around and the room, which has obviously not been touched in months. Boxes are covered in dust, the tables are scattered, piles of dirt are scattered around the floor, it's just gross.

The door opens a few minutes later and slams behind the devil, who doesn't even look at a chair before plopping her ass on a desk and crisscrossing her legs.

She drops her bag on the ground after she takes out her book, then slumps over her lap and starts reading. She didn't even look in my direction. She must notice I'm staring, because she finally looks up at me, showing the nice bruise over her eye, then glares.

Damn, I made that bruise, right around her wide, green eyes. I'm proud. That looks like it hurt. Was it worth five hours of Saturday detention plus two hours a week of partner swimming until we graduate? Probably not, I hate her guts.

Her bruises are nothing compared to the bruises she gave me, one on my jaw and multiple across my ribs. They don't hurt too bad, but the bruises look like I was mugged by two grown men, not an eighteen-year-old girl.

I watch the clock as time slowly passes by, after five minutes I feel like I might die. Goodness gracious, I should have brought my phone or something. There's nobody here to take it, I don't know why I hadn't thought of that.

Apparently, the librarian upstairs checks on us every forty-five to sixty minutes, though she doesn't look strong enough to go down these stairs anymore, so I doubt that will be happening any time soon.

Louie, who hasn't looked up from her book, has been here multiple times, which must be why she looked very prepared to stay in a silent room for five hours. 8:30am-1:30pm seems extreme, but I guess I can't exactly blame them.