Drop

Two.

I will be honest when I say that the first thought that entered my mind when I opened my eyes, was a list of all the possible ways to dismantle Owen's limbs. I'm not usually such a violent guy, but I guess Owen brought out the worst in me. Like I said, I don't know why he was my best friend.

When thoughts of Owen's head stabbed onto a pitch fork were becoming faint, I realized I couldn't breath. Well, I tried, and all I got was a lung full of the most disgusting water I've ever tasted.

Lake water.

My arms flailed like crazy as I stared up through the mucky water to a ray of sunlight beaming against the surface. It was like the light at the end of the tunnel. I kicked my legs like a madman. I was desperate for oxygen. Exploding out of the water, I sucked in a massive bucket-load of air.

And then, I gazed around.

There was a police SUV parked awkwardly over a channel of rocks. It looked like whoever had been driving it had been in a huge rush to park and tumble from the car. My eyes shifted to the opposite side of Ridge Park Lake where I spotted what appeared to be half my school, the mailman, four cops I recalled meeting at a law enforcement presentation back in freshman year, and my parents.

Ashley was crying near a tall oak tree that was set-off from the rest of the crowd.

Owen stood over her, his arms resting on either side of the trunk. He was crying, too.

I narrowed my eyes at the scene and pushed cupped palms through the glassy water in an attempt to tread my weight. I thought it was a little weird that no one had bothered to even glance at the bottom of the lake. It wasn't that deep. Did they really not see me lying down there at the bottom?

I shook my head as if to say such-a-sad-world-we-live-in, and began to flail my arms in a manner that could classify me as a lunatic. Like I said, I couldn't swim. It must have been my lucky four 'o clock in the morning, because I was close enough to the edge of The Cliff that I just had to climb a bit.

My lungs no longer burned, I noticed, as I maneuvered over a few sharp rocks. I could remember everything clearly: Owen being drunk, Ashley egging him on, and me being shoved off into the lake. 

I remember feeling the water consume me, like a monster beneath your bed would. I remember it feeling endless. I remember trying to breath, and not being able to. I remember sinking, and be trapped at the bottom of the lake.

Then everything had gone black.

My jeans were soaked, and left a damp trail along the forest floor as I walked. I kept my eyes on Owen and Ashley as I approached them. My Converse squeaked with every step I took, my breathing was heavy and loud, and drops of water rolled off my tee shirt with a steady drum of drops.

And yet, as I came up behind a salty-eyed Ashley, the pair never gave me a glance.

It was then that I wanted to kill Owen for not only ruining my new Beatles shirt with lake water, but now, for ignoring me and pretending like whatever was going on was some kind of sick, pre-meditated practical joke.

"Owen. This isn't funny." My voice felt weird in my mouth, like a bunch of marbles had made friends with my tongue, "First you push me off The Cliff, and now this!" I swiped a hand across my face, and a sheet of sandy water was discharged onto my wrist. "I swear Owen Matthew Jacobs, I have no problem busting your face-" I started, my anger through the roof.

I was cut-off by my own mother. "O-Owen... Ashley. I know you're both u-upset." She was crying too. Her silver-lined hair cascaded around her cheeks, and stuck there like glue. She wiped her face, like I had just done.  "I h-haven't fully accepted this yet. N-No one has. He can't just be gone."