Mirrors

Undertow

Chapter Five

Undertow

  Eight years old—I was eight years old when it happened. That day, when Shane saw me hanging for dear life, took away every shred of innocence left in me. Shane forced me to do an evil deed. Colton had to watch everything happen, too petrified to escape.

  That day ended our friendship.

  I was back in the ocean. It was the first time I felt relieved to feel the water rush through my lungs. Each water molecule separated into oxygen and hydrogen, leaving enough air for me to breath, defying the laws of the real world.

  The memory from moments ago still lingered in my thoughts. I left right before it got any worse. Raggedy Anne slowly appeared in front of me, facing my way. She floated, swaying side-to-side. A flash flood of shame overwhelmed me as I saw the cute smirk on her face. An eerie feeling took a hold of me, realizing how my perspective of the doll had changed.

  I observed the ocean around me, widening my eyes at the sight of the myriad objects floating in peace. Do I have to go through this? I thought. Had I no other choice but to open Pandora's box? Was this really the purpose of purgatory: to swim through, watching a life I would never set foot again?

  My fists clenched tautly, so tight that my long nails dug into my skin. I was angry at myself, my life and the decisions I had made throughout the short amount of time. I should have told someone about Shane. I should have ran away before he could even lay a finger on me. I should have done something—but I didn't.

  The only person I could blame was me.

  I was angry at myself. This madness rose above all emotion, tantalizing me with its sweet, warming satisfaction it offered. It turned me into a beast. Bubbles suddenly engulfed me, covering my view of the ocean. I bellowed in agony and pain; the boiling water tore through my skin. I bit my lip to the point of bleeding. The hotter it got, the angrier I felt—and it felt good. I just wanted to hurt someone. I wanted to hurt myself.

  Death was supposed to take away the regrets and dramas of life. However, no one could escape from their failures and misery. And as for me? They had followed me to the grave.

  An aleatory wave smashed on top of me, while a current pulled me further down the depths of the ocean. I struggled to stay up. The ocean had been so peaceful; how come it was going out of whack right then? I stared up at the glassy surface, observing its eerie calmness. Serenity took a hold of me. I began to accept what was to become of me. I stopped floundering, letting the current pull me.

  Suddenly, it stopped. My head stayed tilted up, watching the marshmallow clouds above the surface slowly pass by. Why couldn't I pass that delicate fabric separating peace and misery? What if I had the chance to pass the surface; would I be satisfied? Did the sky, with its mellow sun, even exist beyond my phaneron—the reality in which I can observe?

  A plethora of mixed feelings combined together, mashing up inside of me like molten lava. Sadness grasped me the most. Slowly and steadily, I felt myself float farther down. I must have been about forty feet below the surface. I didn't seem to mind this serene descent.

  The light from the sun couldn't hit as far as I expected. I could see its illumination fading away at a slow pace. My belongings that floated around me began to look more and more unrecognizable. They were at the bottom of my chest of memories.

  What would happen if I reached the very bottom? I thought. There had to be a bottom, right?

  I was about seventy feet away from the surface. An aloof barking caught my attention. It was a sharp yelp, fierce but excited. It was my dog.

  A transparent shadow began following me. It raced towards me until it faced me. It was a tiny female rattie—my rat terrier. She was mostly black except for her brown brow and snout; from below her chest to her legs were covered in white fur. Her white legs made her look like she was wearing socks; and that was how I named her.

  Socks had a tennis ball in her mouth; it was almost the size of her head. I always wondered how she could shove that ball in her mouth; even I couldn't do it. I threw the ball for her, and she stumbled along the water to chase after it. When she came back, she dropped the ball and gave me a drool bath. She licked my face as hard as she could. I laughed, enjoying the company.

  Although I knew my dog wasn't dead, I didn't have a clue why she was here in purgatory.

  The more I played with her, the happier I got.

  "Good girl, Socks!" I praised in a high, childish voice. "You're such a good girl!"

  Slowly, another current pulled me upwards. I soon found myself closer to the surface, back to where I started. My head seemingly touched the surface. When I stretched an arm, the surface pulled away from me.

  Socks gave me a lick, and slowly faded away. It seemed that she just wanted to do her job: to make me happy.

  There I was: alone again.

  I gained a better understanding of this ocean. My mood changed the atmosphere of this place: boiling water when angry, an undertow when I'm sad and/or too stubborn to change my negativity, and happiness pulled me back up.

  The dark pit below me held some items of my past. The lower I went, the more suppressed and forgotten the memories. If I couldn't swim upwards, I had the free will to go back down. I had to swim through my past, opening chaos. These things kept me down, and I needed to lighten the load.