Letters to Lia ; Olivia Holt
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Ongoing7m
Last published Tue, Nov 3, 2020
"Sometimes when people die, it leaves an empty hole in your chest and you're left feeling hollow and numb. Usually, however, they're buried and given a gravestone and everything; funerals, people grieving. It takes a while but eventually, you learn to live with their absence and accept that they're watching over you and you go on with the rest of your life. The death of River Michaels was nothing like this. Yes, he died but not in the way I had just described."
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I was drowning. I knew that. I also knew that the hands around my throat, pushing me deeper into the river water was the cause. What I didn't know was who was drowning me and why. It hurt thinking. It hurt to do anything right now. But I still screamed under the cold water and pushed the hands away as hard as I could. It didn't have much effect. I fought and fought, but I was getting weaker, and colder. The pain was overbearing. I couldn't breathe. It was the worst pain imaginable; and as the hands that were around my neck were forcibly ripped off by some unknown force, I slipped deeper into the depths of the river. My hair was straight above me along with my arms. My eyes were open and the water burned. A darkness started to pull me under, taking the pain away. I felt a small pressure around my waist, before the darkness completely consumed me. The last thing I remember is thinking, save me.
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