Frozen Chemicals

The Rescuer

The dark water that surrounds me is suffocating, and deadly.

The frigid temperatures envelope me with pure terror. I don't want to die. Not yet, I thought I did two years ago after the crash. But now, I don't want to die. I want to live, even though I'm not exactly a "social butterfly" it doesn't mean I'm miserable. I furiously grasp at nothing, digging through the water hoping to gain some hold, but as I thrash, my muscles slow because of the temperatures of the water, I progressively sink and the ice at the edge of the hole I just made just continues to break at my clasp. I can’t even reach the ice anymore.

I hope to god one of them has their phone. As I struggle to swim to the top I can't stop myself from inhaling the stinging ice water. Each inhale fills my lungs until I just can't anymore. I’m frozen to my core, the near frozen water paralyzing my lungs, so cold that it burns like I’ve inhaled fire. I'm drowning and I'm going to die. As I sink lower the water gets darker, or maybe it's just my ability to see. Heaven Help me. Please. Not that it helps, or even makes sense, my eyes start to leak fiery hot tears into the freezing water, just to be almost instantly chilled by the surrounding.

Consciousness fades, the edges of what left I see turns black, or is that just because of how deep I’ve sunk? Before I'm completely gone I feel a hand brush against my own? Is it them? No, it can't be. The lake is too deep and the ice too delicate. Is it another body of one of the people who have commit suicide and were never found? It can't be, this had was alive.  Colder than the water itself, but I can tell it's alive. Hallucinating, I make one last desperate grasp and find the hand again that clasps mine back. Maybe I have some hope. As I think my last conscious thought, something binds my ankle prohibiting my escape. If I weren’t screwed before, I am now.

I was right, my brain’s denied attempt to stay alive. The hand disappears, that was the last thing I’m able to feel besides the desperation and agony, I wish I were already dead, still gasping for air, though what should be impossible, my lungs still fill with air. I’m at my end, tied to the bottom of a pond, to never be seen again, most likely to not be found. I’ll really become the ghost I thought I was.

Before I lose consciousness for the final time, when all is black, I still think I see HIS eyes. The bright blue eyes of the boy I told to leave me alone because I never wanted to see his face again. The eyes that are so blue the only way to describe the color is ice, yet still warm,  but belong to the one who killed and ruined my family trying to goof around.

Jack Frost.