A Message to Scott Cawthon: Reimagined

Chapter Four

It was everywhere. He couldn't escape the rising levels. He pounded on the glass walls, but no one was there. He was alone. The water was rising to his shoulders, it's icy touch threatening to take away his breath. He tried to call for help but he couldn't even hear his own voice over the overwhelming roar of the water. No one would have heard him anyway. He was alone.

The water was up to his neck now, dancing back and forth under his chin, leaping at his jaw, tugging at his ears. "Please..." he begged, "I don't want to die." The water mocked him, suddenly surging upwards and then lowering back down. He spat and choked as the liquid gushed through his open mouth and nostrils, trying to take whatever air he had left to breathe. No one heard his cries. He was alone.

And then he saw them; four shadowy figures stood outside his cage. They stood there, casually watching, as if he was some sort of zoo attraction. He put both of his hands on the glass wall in front of him, mentally begging for them to help him. One of them pointed at him, the others stayed still. The water rose once again, but he knew better this time. He sucked in a deep breath and held it, clamping his eyes shut as tears threatened to fall down his face. The water was angry at this and made up its mind; his time was up. The cage began filling faster and faster until it was filled completely.

For some reason, he felt the urge to open his eyes. Foolishly, he did. But they did not blur or sting like he thought they would. No, he could see clearly. He could still see the figures outside. He thumped on the glass, the water pushing back at his movements. His chest was stinging, his body was aching from tiredness. The figures walked up closer to the cage, the outlines of their facial features becoming clearer in the darkness outside.

They were laughing.

He couldn't hear them, but the reflection of their teeth and the shaking of their shoulders gave it away. He pounded on the glass; punching it, kicking it. Nothing worked. Not even a crack appeared. He was wasting his energy and he knew it all too well. His constricted chest was screaming in pain. "Breathe," it yelled, "breathe." The figures outside seemed to agree; he watched their mouths move. "Breathe," they said in unison, "breathe!"

Outside of the cage, it appeared to get darker. The figures faded. He was alone. In some twisted sense of desperation, he almost wanted them to stay with him. They did this to him! They needed to watch the consequences! It was all their fault.

It wasn't fair.

It was completely dark outside now. The only light came from the bottom of his glass cage, the waves of white rippling around his body as it was trapped too. He saw a face in the glass. With bloodshot eyes it stared back at him. That's when he realised.

He wasn't there.

"Lewis! Breathe!" a voice screamed at him. Hands grasped his shoulders and shook him violently. He felt a punch to his stomach and water erupted from his mouth. Instantly, Lewis started to choke and splutter, his lungs burning, and his limbs numb. He opened his eyes and his vision was still spinning. Someone dragged him towards another end of the hot tub, and he felt his neck start to rest against a cool surface, the water jets pushing against his skin. His eyes were blurred, and he could barely make out the edges of shapes, but the patch of pink was unmistakable.

"Baz?" he croaked in a hoarse voice. Hyperventilating in a panic while you were trying to choke up water wasn't exactly the best combination. What the Hell just happened to me!?

"S***! Don't f***ing do that to me!"

"Do what?" Lewis blinked hard, the face of his older friend starting to come into better focus. It was contorted with anger, but its eyes showed fear and concern.