FYSH: Diving Deeper.

Chapter One: Seated at the Beginning.

My legs and shoulders are strong and lean, however, my heart is weak. I am an expert in the water, but I have no experience with reality. I am young and I am afraid, but I am smart and I am quick to learn.

I'm no fish but... you should see me swim.

I can't believe it happened to me. I mean, me, of all people. Billions of people in the world, and a handful of kids are chosen by God to go through the scariest experience that our reality has ever seen. I remember it too clearly. If I just close my eyes, and think for a moment. It's scary. Enabling memories that you've repressed to the back of your brain to resurface. Some of the worst moments in my life taunt me as they reappear, again and again.

But here we are. At the beginning.

People were busily bustling around me, from right to left, from stalls to stores. Well, the South Station had always been a grand place. Golden walls and arched ceilings, people of all colours and sizes fill the ground, swarming the coaches like angry wasps. The coaches were splendid as well, sleek and shiny, and fast, too, like bullets. I couldn't wait for my journey, and what awaited me. What awaited the small town girl walking for the first time out of all she knows and closer to the Central that she's ever been, with only a little backpack and her granddad to guide her. I looked up at his old, wizened face, a face that had seen far too much, eyes that were star-filled. He was taking me, because he was the only one who had ever been to the South Station in our town, and he knew where to go. I couldn't help but look around in excitement and wonder, and wonder myself, why he did not look the same. His face was one of mild regret and pity, and helplessness.

We neared a woman in a blue and white suit, and his fingers tightened around mine.

"Good to see you, Charles. It's been a long time." The woman smirked, her red lips breaking into a toothy grin. My grandfather nodded to her.

"You haven't changed a bit." He said and her smile fell flat.

"I'll take her, then." She said, her tone suddenly fake and chilly as her sharp nails raked towards me. My grandpa took a step back, pulling me along with him.

"I'm allowed to say goodbye, aren't I?" He said, his tone incredibly sombre. He didn't seem to be talking about me, and the woman's eyes shivered, like the minute a knife shuckles open an oyster shell, and the gray oyster writhes in it's chassis.

"Maybe she doesn't want to hear it." She replied, and she flinched away. My grandfather only stared, no hatred in his eyes. No anything in his eyes.

"You have two minutes, the coach will be taking off shortly, and they're waiting for her." The clipped tone of her voice flit like an arrow and implied the end of the subject.

My grandpa shrunk down on one knee and looked me deep in the eye.

"Little fish," He told me, the nickname he'd always call me, sweet in his mouth, "Two minutes is nowhere near enough to express how much I love you. But be strong, come back home when you can. Maybe this is the last time I see you." His eyes became steamy and his voice wobbled, his strong accent strewn through his words.

"Remember, you're a Piscis," He said, holding my cheek, catching a cheeky tear of mine, "and we'll never forget about you, so you do your best."

There, he wrapped his bulky arms around me, holding me so tight that I could feel his pulsing heart against my temples. This was the man who had raised me basically from birth, the man who taught me about law and religion, kindness and safety, about friendship and love. Though he was a rough man, he had a mushy heart, and showed me how much he loved me in the kindest ways possible. I would miss him sorely. Finally, he let me go (teary-eyed), and pat my head. Whilst walking away, he blew me a kiss and I smiled, not letting him know how much, already, my heart was aching.