I took one last glance up at the world above as I took my last breath and the water pounded against my back. The water was unmistakably murky. All I could feel was the bitterness of the water cutting into my skin as the bubble it formed, collapsed. It was horrific. The pitch black of the water. The sound of nothingness. It was so quiet. All I could hear was my heart. So loud. Like it was pulled from my chest and placed next to my ear. Then a feeling of pain and numbness. Like someone punching me in the throat. But just once. The air left my lungs as my body drifted off into the sleep that I thought would last forever.
YOU ARE READING
A Close Call
Random"Mom..." I said. I couldn't finish the sentince. The car hurled toward the side of the bridge. Mom was the last thing I'd ever hear. Mom was the last thing I'd ever see. "Mom." Was the last thing I'd ever say.
