Seven Minutes to Regret (Watty Awards 2011 Winner)

"Seven Minutes to Regret" won Best Title and Short Story Undiscovered! Thanks to everyone for the support!

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Drowning is said to be one of the most frightening ways to die. They say this is because you can feel the water forcing its way down your throat and into your lungs, scraping its way down as it replaces your air, stretching your lungs until they burst. Also, did you know they say your brain keeps functioning for seven minutes after you die?

        Water flowed around my ankles, gentle and hesitant. I waded deeper into the ocean, the liquefied ice tugging at my knees, willing me to go in deeper. I listened to all it had to offer: Peace, escape, a chance to wash away all my problems and sorrows forever; a proposal incapable of finding elsewhere. A cold breeze whispered in my ear, ruffling my white nightgown and tossing my cinnamon hair around. Goosebumps rose on my arms, my skin twitching.

        One more step, it encouraged, whispering to me through the blueberry pink sky. I rubbed my hand over my flat stomach, a place that would never hold life.

        Memories of the mugging -- a man with a long blade -- flocked my mind. Crimson gushed between my fingers as I had tried to stop the bleeding. Sirens -- nearly too late.

        Gratefully I took another step, and the rocky sand quivered under my feet contently. I shivered in response to the cold as the water hugged my stomach.

        Petite waves rolled around me, white foam swimming past me as the smell of salt tickled my nose.

        Just close your eyes, smile, and take a seat, another tranquil gust of air whispered.

        I crossed my pale arms over my heavy-hearted chest and the water began licking my elbows. Tilting my head towards the heavens, I took a deep breath and imagined the grieving clouds as beds that I would soon lay upon. My blue eyes clicked shut as I slowly took one more step and descended into the black triumph.

        I knew I was in for more than I had bargained for when I felt the waters greed. It plucked my feet up and held me under, placing all its weight on me as forcefully as it could. It didn't want to be patient, oh no, it wanted me now.

        I gasped as I lost all sense of direction. The world spun and it felt as if I'd been thrust upwards into a space sans gravity. I thrashed out, trying to right myself. I felt my hand break the surface, only to be jarred back down by an angry wave of black. The water wrenched my lips open and slid quickly down my pink throat like a snake attacking its prey. It bit the bottom of my lungs, forcing me to scream, merely to have the sound encased in bubbles.

        The salt pulled at my vision, grazing against the blue of my eyes. It dug up the veins from the whites of them, viciously stealing my sight.

        Before I knew it the water had permanently silenced me. Three minutes -- not even -- that's all it took. My body submerged and I lay on my back just below the surface of the cold oblivion. Water seeped into my ears as if it planned to keep the painful memory of death intact. Water lapped around my body, growing calmer after the struggle I had encountered within it.

        They say your brain keeps working for at least another seven minutes after you die... Die... Die...

        "Rosaleen!" a papery voice shouted.

        My eyes were fixed on the now dark blue, buttery sky above me. But I didn't need my sight to know whose voice had intruded my head. The golden band on my ring finger became heavy as I thought of him. He was the man who had accepted my traumatized, torn self -- which I had become after the stabbing -- without hesitation.

        "Oh God! Rosaleen!" The voice stirred the ocean around me and warm hands glided me atop it quickly.