Short Story Collection

When Death Takes Pity

The sun beats relentlessly on my back. All my training, all my life spent towards one goal: Make it to the finish line first. I've put my whole body into this. Everything I could do to further my chances of success I've done. Cutting my hair off, missing school to get to meets early, giving up Halloween candies to keep myself in shape. I've gulped down more kale shakes and thrown them back up more times than I'm willing to admit, but it all comes down to this moment. 

Cedar's swimming races.

I've pushed myself farther than before to get to this point. Sunlight dances in the clear water, stroking the pale, concrete floors underneath the water's surface. Thing strung ropes sway, the only markers out here in this free world.

I'm ready.

This challenge has been the only thing on my mind since I've started training. The exhaustion, the sicknesses, the weather; nothing has stopped me. And it most definitely won't be stopping me now.

I get into position on the starting block. This is it. My fingers start shaking a bit but I ignore it, confident in my abilities.

"Take your marks," the referee shouts at us. One step ahead, I think. My muscles are feeling a little weird but I brush it off as nerves. I stand there, waiting for the beep to echo.

Bleep. The dull echo rings in my ears as I jump off to collided with the water. I start moving my arms but something's wrong.

I'm not swimming.

I'm sinking.

Confused, I will my arms to move. But they refuse, stubbornly floating out beside me.

I can't breath. I'm drowning under the clear, calm waters of a race. Something's wrong, something's very wrong. My arms won't move! What the fuck am I supposed to do!?

I tilt my head back. Oh god, my vision's blurry. I blink, trying to clear it, but it does nothing. I try to kick my legs but the attempt is futile. The sun just continues to shine, taunting me with it's air, the fresh, sweet air I crave.

Around my eyes, I see darkness, fluctuating with the waves of the pool. Is that a sudden splash of water? I don't know anymore. Something bitter is in my mouth. Is my mouth open?

Numbly, I feel my feet hit the concrete, but the darkness overtakes me before I can feel anything else.

~

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

My chest hurts. Every part of it, on the inside, aches with pain as my heart squeezes blood through my system. At least that's one organ that never gave up.

Beep.

The heart monitor is beeping. I don't have a heart monitor at my house, do I?

Beep.

The shuffle of shoes alerts me. I quickly squeeze my barely open eyes shut. I feel a hint of a shadow over me. A few crinkles. Sounds of rummaging through a jar.

Beep.

"Is she going to be alright?" A doctor's deep voice surprises me, but I try to keep my face calm. Why do my lungs hurt so much?

Beep.

"I don't know yet." A voice, female sounding, answers the doctor.

Beep.

"Her heart rate's normal." A cold stethoscope presses against my chest. I hardly keep from shivering.

Beep.

"Her body temp's cold though." The female.

Beep.

"Are her lungs clearing?"

Beep.

"Yeah we drained them an hour ago." Something clanks as it's put back into a jar.

Beep.

A sigh. "I hope she pushes through this one," deep voiced doctor says. He sounds concerned.

Beep.

"Don't worry so much, her lungs are all cleared and she's already recovering." The female doctor's voice sounds casual, like she's been in the scenario a thousand times already.

Beep.

"Besides, sometimes Death takes pity on us."