Lost water

Chapter Six

I swim out past where my feet can touch. The gashes on my arm from earlier begin to sting from the salt water. I fear the darkness surrounding me, but how ironic is it that you get to drown in your fears? The water pushes past me, almost pushing me back, as if to tell me to stay alive.

When I get to my desired spot, I lay quietly on my back, staring up at the stars. In the back of my mind, I'm afraid that something will pull me back, but then again I watch to many scifi movies.

I can't wait anymore, or my mind will consume me.

I push out my breath, instead of like I would if I were swimming, and push myself down under the heavy water. I sit there for a moment until the air in my lungs just isn't enough.

My lungs involuntarily breathe in, causing me to choke profusely on the salty water. Every time I choke on the water makes me breathe in again, which takes more water in. The burning in my chest hurts so much more than I anticipated. I look up, the water burning my eyes, at the top of the water. I wouldn't be able to make it; I'd already be gone by the time I reached to top, or the shore.

Tears prick my eyes, but they float away in the water as they fall out of my eyes. My throat and my chest burn so bad. The coughing has ceased, but now I'm faced with lungs full of water and blurry thoughts fading in and out.

I close my eyes, trying to stop the tears, but the pain is unlike anything I've ever felt. I can physically feel the color leave my face. If I were to open my eyes, I'm sure I would see all of my rosy and tan colors floating away, amongst the angel fish and weird sea creatures I've never seen.

My mouth is still open slightly as my consciousness begins to fade out. Out of habit, my throat constricts, taking large gulps of the salty water, leaving me sputtering about as the water seeps in through my nose.

Before I realize what I've just done, my stomach turns in on itself. I completely forgot that drinking salt water makes you vomit. Nothing comes out though, I'm just slowly fading away. There are no more violent convulsions underwater as I choke for air. My stomach hurts, but that's it.

Somehow, I find it funny, under all of this water, how she was like my water. I needed her to live, and now that she's gone, I'm dying. But the most ironic thing is that I'm not only dying without my water, it's that I'm drowning. I'm drowning in her. In the fact that she's gone, in the mere thought of her. In the thought that I'll never be able to talk to her again.

With the last consciousness that I have, I curl my body, pulling my knees to my chest, like a baby in a new mom's stomach.

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