Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The instinct to not breathe underwater is so strong that it overcomes the agony of running out of air.
Hands placed on the small-framed shoulders. The grip tight. Bruising the skin. They pushed her down, holding. She struggled, becoming disoriented. Afraid. She breathed no air. Despite the pleas from her burning lungs. She thrashed, pushing upward with her arms and legs. But the hands only came down harder upon her. Her skin prickled under the icy sheet. Still, no breath was taken. Going against every instinct in her body she refused breath until she was on the verge of consciousness.
Too much carbon dioxide and so little oxygen. That chemical sensors in her brain and triggers an involuntary breath. Suddenly, icy cold water spills into her lungs.
The "breakpoint" is what that's called. On the average person this point would come after about eighty-seven seconds. For her... almost five minutes. It's sort of a neurological optimism, as if her body was saying, "holding our breath is killing us, and breathing in might not kill us, so we might as well breathe in."
She breathed in.
Shards of ice burst, scattering about the room with a small clattering noise. A body followed seconds later. Like lava out of a volcano she spilled over the metal edge. Lungs aching, longing for air.
Her body rests, leaning over the cold, wet, metal tub. Water spilled from all sides, running, forming puddled on the marble floors. Coughing, water worked its way out of her chest. She gasped, still needing air. The water filling her lungs prevented words from being formed.
The same hand reached back down. Though this time offering its help. She took it, allowing it to pull her out of the icy hell she'd been held under. With clattering teeth and a shivering body, she began to regret the outfit she choice for this particular exercise. Jeans shorts and an old band t-shirt that read "One Direction," across the top in bright, purple letters. But in the end the outfit made little difference. Had she worn a sweater and pants, she'd be just as cold as she is now.
