Unmarked

58. Drowning or Swimming

Ice cold slaps my body. I squeeze my eyes shut as thousands upon thousands of needles stab away at my skin. My chest constricts inwards, crushing my organs as I submerge deeper into the water.

Keep calm. Panicking only leads to mistakes. Mistakes lead to problems or in this case the outcome of drowning. Except it's hard not to panic when I don't know which way is up or down; my mouth wants to open wide and breath in but there's no air around me, only foul stinking river water.

Ignoring the instinct to inhale becomes harder, my muscles start to convulse, every cell hungry for oxygen. My hand brushes a hard slippery chain. Reaching out, I grip as best as I can, pulling myself in the direction I'm guessing is up, until my head touches cool air. I tilt my head back, my lips meet the welcome waft of river stench and I suck it in frantically.

Louds shots ring out, a burning heat scorches through my shoulder and I scream as waves of water lap into my mouth and nose. Tightening my hand around the chain, I pull myself towards it, tucking myself against the edge of a boat while my arm throbs frantically.

The shots stop but I don't dare move. Gritting my teeth, I keep my mouth just above the water, matching my breathing to the counting in my head. One, two, three...

Shivering, my teeth chatter in my mouth. I've restarted my count several times but the numbers keep getting lost in the cold darkness. My body is numb and the lack of pain is a relief but I'm aware it's probably not a good sign.

I scan the area around me until my blurred vision makes out a ladder fixed to a large wall. It's five metres away, maybe ten. To be honest, it could be a hundred. I'm struggling to focus.

Wiggling my right arm and leg, I aim for the ladder. Dipping between treading water and sinking, I manage to stay above the surface long enough to get some much needed air into my lungs and not drown. I'm swimming, kind of, and I can't help feel proud which is stupid because this is how I'm going to die, of fatigue or hypothermia, probably a combination of the two.

Strangely the thought doesn't scare me. I quite like the idea of going numb and floating off into nothingness. It's more appealing than Jas killing me. A shot to the head is quick yet it's also brutal and bloody.

Water laps over my face, bringing me back. Where am I? Trying to swim. Trying to live.

My hand clings to cold metal, my limbs are floppy as I try to climb up the ladder. I pause and rest more than I move. My joints are unable to coordinate themselves whilst white-hot flashes make the edges of my vision flicker.

Darkness and light combine as I drag myself forward. Faces, noises, memories come back to haunt me and I'm unsure where I am although I continue moving. Only time will tell where I will end up.