Genevieve's POV
Drip. Drip. Drip.
I watched the water droplets fall from the shower faucet, as they hit the water with a delicate sound. Drip. The falling caused a ripple to form once they made contact with the mass, not that it was noticeable, being that the bath was overtaken with bubbles. I watched the simple action, but my mind was blank. Usually it's running over all the place with thoughts not comprehensible to anyone but myself.
I raised my wrinkled hand caused by the water to eye level. The residue of bubbles slid off my palm into the water, as I watched it merge into one with the crowd of soapiness. I focused on the water running down my finger. The look, the feel. I studied it's beauty. What a beautiful concept it held behind itself. A necessity to keep one alive, but the power to fill a man's lungs, killing one instantly. How contradictory. Water keeps people alive, but holds to ability to take the gift of life away.
I quickly submerged my hand back into the bath, shaking off my thoughts. I scooped a handful and splashed my face. The lukewarm liquid running down my face, leaving cold traces behind. I touched my face, slowly to wipe away the water. In an instance without any thought, I took a deep breath and slid straight into the water. It filled my every being, like being encased in a box.
I was terrified. Terrified of the feeling. Terrified that this was how some deaths had occurred. I did not enjoy the feeling at all. But nonetheless, it was a feeling and I want myself..to feel everything. There was another feeling. The burning. The aching desire for my lungs to be filled with oxygen. I wanted to stay longer. I needed to feel it.
Finally, I could not take anymore and raised from the water, gasping for air. I spat the water in my mouth, and wiped my eyes. My heart was racing, and I was breathing heavy. I did not know what I was doing, I did not know what I wanted to expect. I did not know what I was thinking. I wasn't thinking. I didn't know anything.
Before I could collect and think of what was happening, I felt a hot tear run down my face. My throat began to swell, and the heat rose in my nose and cheeks. My vision was blurred from the tears invading my eyes as I broke down. I held a hand to my mouth to silence my violent sobbing.
The tears hit the water, remaining a salty drop as it collided with the bath water. A means of nothingness to the world. But it was much more than that. It held all the bottled emotions, the wars that continued within the shallow, brittle cages of my lungs. Only to be expressed through violent sobs and endless shaking. It was a means of something.
