A Match Into Water (Fuenciado)

Chapter Nine

"Vic!"

 The voice came to me as though through a veil, gurgled and distorted. My head was so foggy that I couldn't think, couldn't process the words. Faintly, at the edge of my mind, I was aware that more words were being spoken, but I couldn't discern their meaning. They were simply disconnected sounds, and they were fading farther and farther away. Everything was. I couldn't feel anything, and I couldn't form a thought to figure out how I felt about that. It was like I was ceasing to exist, but I hadn't completely flickered away yet. My consciousness was growing dimmer, and I sunk into the depths of the nothingness.

 Only I couldn't completely disappear. The voice was getting louder, shouting now, but it was as though it was from up on the surface and I was ten feet underwater, totally submerged and floating in the void. I felt calm. I felt nothing. I felt...wet. I felt hands shaking me. I felt a body next to mine wracked with sobs. I felt the vibrations of the pained screams coming from their throat, which had now turned into violent whispers, as though they couldn't even bring themselves to speak.

 Another splash of wetness dripped across my face. Water. Someone was dousing me in water. Why? I struggled to recall what was going on, but my mind drew a blank. Where even was I? There was darkness all around me, and it took me a few moments to realize that my eyes were closed. I tried to open them, but they felt like lead.

 The voice from before was still talking, I realized, and I strained to listen to it. At first, it seemed like just a jumble of sounds, but eventually I was able to pick apart the words.

 "Vic, don't be dead. Please, just...f-fuck, don't be dead, oh god, don't let him be dead, he can't be, he can't, please..." The voice broke off, stuttering into a fit of crying.

 Whoever it was, I could feel their hand on my chest, clutching at the fabric of my shirt as though it was a lifeline. Their breathing was staccato, and it was painful to listen to. I desperately wanted to open my eyes, to see what was happening, but I was trapped in this in-between state, and there was nothing I could do about it. I was right below the surface, I knew it, I just needed to get a little higher, and then I'd be able to breathe again.

 The pressure on my chest subsided, and I felt even more dazed until another bout of water came crashing onto my face. It was freezing cold, and I began to splutter, cool air painfully entering my lungs.

I started to cough, my body shaking with each heave of my chest. I couldn't get any air in without feeling like I was going to choke.

 Hands pulled me upright to a seated position, held me steady because I was too weak to support myself. My head rested against a bony shoulder, though to me it felt like a pillow.

 "Vic?" The voice asked, cracking on the last word in desperation. "Can you hear me?"

 I wanted to say yes, to reassure this voice that I could, in fact, hear them. But I didn't even know who the voice belonged to. Or where I was. Or what was going on. All I knew was that I was still enveloped by darkness, and my brain couldn't form a coherent thought.

 I could feel the panic returning to the person beside me when I didn't reply, couldn't reply, and they began to shake my shoulders gently. My head was like a deadweight, lolling above my neck, and presently I was returned to my laying position on the ground.

 "C'mon, Vic," the voice whispered urgently, sounding hoarse. "I know you're there. Wake up! Please, wake up!"

 Wake up? Was I asleep? Was that why I couldn't remember anything, couldn't think straight? I struggled to open my eyes, yearning to understand what was happening. It felt like I was lifting a million pounds, but eventually I was able to flick them open.