TEST ME

Go Swimming Or Go Home

Although my mood is dampened, I still make my way out of the house and out toward the infinity pool, careful to avoid communicating with anyone. Eyes remaining downcast, I make it behind the house unnoticed.

The pool overlooks a vast green landscape beneath, and I spend the next hour or so leaning along the edge gazing at it's expanse. My feet glide slowly through the water with the bottom beyond reach. My hair is done up in a bun so as to not get it wet, leaving my porcelain shoulders at the mercy of the sun. Occasionally, I turn so my back is up against the corner of the pool, with my shoulders leant against it. From this position, I can watch the flowers dance in the breeze, and a pair of butterflies flutter among them.

My lessons taught me that some butterflies only live for a week. This makes me wonder whether they know that death is imminent, or whether they perceive a week as I see a hundred. Regardless, throughout the time I've been here they've been either flitting around or sat on flowers.

I know that my death could be just around the corner, maybe like the boy that was supposed to sit next to me at breakfast. Because of this, I will strive to be like the butterflies. I want to capture every moment for the rest of my life, because butterflies are nature and when is nature ever wrong? Harsh and cruel, maybe, but never wrong. If something that lives for such a short amount of time absorbs every second, then so should I, because death could be just around the corner.

The sun has risen to the center of the sky, and my stomach growling reminds me that its lunch time. However, I am reluctant to leave the warm pool and the scenery around it; the atmosphere removes me from everything that's gone on - I haven't thought about the spritely girl with her violet bob since I got out here.

The solution comes in the form of Ko: he jogs over wearing nothing other than a loose-fitting pair of white trunks, which contrast brilliantly with his toned skin, eminating an aura of candescence. He wears a thin black cord around his neck, which holds a silver object that I can't see clearly. Most importantly, he is carrying with him a plate of food.

My mouth floods with saliva, and I resisted the urge to swallow enthusiastically. Instead, I arc my eyebrow at the boy as he slides into the pool beside me.

"You look distressed for someone with such a peaceful view." He mutters, and I look up to see his face pulled into a frown.

"Sorry. I - I can't stop thinking about Violet." I reveal, and his worried expression morphs into an amused one. What I don't tell him is that I'm also thinking, what happens when that's me?

"You overthink things, we don't know what's going to happen to her!" He laughs, and I punch him in the arm.

We tuck into the food - a beautifully appealing fruit salad - simultaneously to our conversation, the cubes of fruit succulent and sweet whilst the various berries burst with flavour. According to Ko, we shouldn't worry about what we can't change, and he thinks I've let my mind wonder too far, based on absolutely no evidence. Whilst he says all this, his ocean eyes pierce mine, and my face heats up a little.

On our screens we were educated about romance and love, and how it often leads to hatred and damage. With this idea at the forefront of my mind, I slowly inch further away from Ko. I don't need distractions anyway.

Almost immediately, I begin to feel slightly dizzy - is this what guilt feels like? This new sensation is uncomfortable and unwelcome to me, so I decide a little more distance could help.

"I'm feeling woozy, I better go inside before I get sunstroke." I say, breaking the silence.

"Are you okay? Do you want me to walk you up?" He replies, standing up in the pool, as the water cascades off his body.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'll see you later." I keep my eyes on the house.

A small boy with short-cropped hair and a lip piercing passes me in the flower garden just outside the house. It still weirds me out to have so many people around - the closest I've been to a person previously are the cleaners, and that wasn't exactly an interactive experience. With all this new input, how am I still sane?

I'm in the bathroom when my stomach starts to ache. Not a "Mummy, can I have a day off school?" ache, but an almost immobilising pain that grows, like a flower, the stem sprouting up to my throat, and for a moment I envision opening my mouth and seeing the first bud in the back of my gullet. It is so excruciating that I fold forward over my stomach, but also stumble back. The inside of my knees hit the lip of the bath, and I fall in, my body folding like a cardboard box. The further side of the bath reaches up to meet my head, but although my vision goes for a second, I don't black out. My screen lessons kick in and I curl into the foetal position, vaguely aware of the wet, sliding motion my head makes as I drag it toward the base of the bath, and my hair sticking to the area of impact.

When I come to, the inky black of the back of my eyelids matches that of my surroundings; the only way I know my eyes are open is the gentle brush of my lashes against the skin beneath my eyebrows. My knees are still curled up against my chest, although my throbbing head now rests against a stony, rough surface, overextending my neck and trapping my hair against the rock. I attempt running my hands through my hair, but they quickly catch on clumps and knots. I shiver, as I realise these can only be caused by my own dried blood.

Just lifting my head is difficult, but I gradually manage a sitting up position. In the back of my consciousness, I hear voices calling, but I am only vaguely aware as I am focusing on my own physical problems. My head is an incomprehensible weight crushing my shoulders, and it takes all my strength just to remain upright. Another search reports a raised lump just below the crest of my skull, but also a lumpy dryness around that area that means the bleeding has stopped. Well, at least there's that.

Fear, nausea, anxiety, pain. I've never felt emotions in this much abundance before, and to be honest, it frightens me. My breath starts to become ragged, as the intensity of the emotions begins to create a vicious cycle. My lungs crash and retract against my ribs, like angry waves on a stormy ocean. Bright light flashes across my eyes; a lighthouse blinding a little boat. Get a grip! Think! Where am I? Instinctively, I dig my fingernails into my palms, and furiously blink my eyes to clear the fuzz. Shapes gradually take form, and the pounding in my head is replaced with the fire in my hands.