"I don't know what's going on, but there's one thing I'm absolutely certain of: Sebastian Michaelis is not human, and I have no clue of what his intention are or what he's capable of doing. "
♞
Bleak.
That, she determined, had become the word to sum...
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♞
Cambridge, April 1889
So I'm not dead.
Unless death is blacking out and waking up in the same unorthodox circumstance, I'm still very much alive, and, besides the whole thing having to do with being submerged underwater yet feeling as if I'm completely dry, am completely fine. Confused, but alive nonetheless. I don't know how long it had been once I regained consciousness, but I'm hardly able to register where I am — an endless abyss of nearly-black blue— before I'm caught up in a fizzing electric blue current.
I still feel as if I'm floating on a cloud as it ushers me downwards, finding myself to be at an odd peace until brilliant turquoise fades to lust-filled fuchsia, and I can feel myself become smothered by testosterone. Then, just as before, I am not alone in this endless abyss; arms tightly encircle my waist, chilly lips make assertive contact with the skin of my neck, and an extreme coldness, colder than the freezing water, blankets me though my body burns where these hands are.
Mine, a seductive voice whispers at my ear, maybe in my mind. You're all mine.
I find myself at a loss. Brain damage due to an extended lack of oxygen is a pretty much unavoidable possibility, so I decide I'm hallucinating and try to keep myself calm despite the way I feel as if I'm breathing fine. Everything disappears just as quickly as it came, and I'm left alone again in the now cerulean waters.
Suddenly, I'm propelled through yet another current, and the dreamlike facade comes crumbling down as the water turns a murky blue. My lungs are burning desperately for air though I can't inhale without surely drowning, my panicked heartbeat thrumming in my chest before it progressively starts to die out, and I watch my life flash before my eyes as my struggle lessens, succumbing to my inevitable fate.
This is it, I can remember myself thinking, praying that I could pass on quick and painless at the least and wishing I would lose consciousness faster.
Then everything just stops. I can't see, hear, or feeling anything around me, and the silence filling my mind is louder than any scream. I feel completely, utterly lost, welcoming sweet death more than I ever had before because I know that even if I somehow manage to make it through this, there's no way I would ever be the same — early death was better than a crippled life. At last, the darkness washes over my consciousness, and I feel myself beginning to slip away.
Right when I think it's finally over — that I'm over — I can feel myself being pushed toward something unknown. I'm abruptly shoved by this invisible force, and the pressure crushing into my body is killing me, feeling as if everything is on fire and would combust into millions of tiny pieces.
By some insane luck or benevolentdeity, I escape death.
My legs flutter me up to the water's surface though I can't even keep my head above water the moment I feel as if I can no longer take this unimaginable, helpless pain. As soon as my head reaches the surface, I immediately cough up water and fluids and begin gasping for air, savoring ever bit I can manage and feeling as if I'm never going to get enough.
