Breathe Under Water - Shadows of the Night 1

Chapter 27

Hi!

Okay, I think this chapter is one of my favorites so far. It was really fun writing it. And I hope you will like it too, once you've read it! The usual: read, comment, vote. THANK YOU ALL FOR READING!

Lara

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Chapter 27

Wet lethargy messed with my muscles as I turned around, still underwater. Nothing. The need for oxygen made my lungs cramp, my thoughts running wild with adrenaline and panic. I thrashed and kicked in the water until I parted the surface.

The need to breathe was overwhelming. Nothing else was existence. I took gulps of air greedily, heard water splashing behind me. The waterfall, the sound of amassed water cascading, was there, hadn't stopped while I was busy dying.

I scanned my surroundings. A ring of trees circled the lake, casting long shadows. No movement. No trace of Michael.

Crap.

I was an easy target in the water. I started to make for the shore. One stroke, two. My lungs and neck hurt, my muscles lethargic. Slow. Another stroke. Two more and I'd reach the shore.

The sound appeared out of nowhere. I jerked my head around. Water sloshed and parted, bowing to the bolt of lightning racing over the surface. It hit me square in the shoulder, pain detonating, timely and aggressive. It hit me so hard that at first I couldn't tell whether my walls of air had even slowed it down.

I cried out in agony. The wall of air I had somehow managed to draw up had held, barely. Still, it felt like someone had given me a hard blow on the shoulder. I pedaled through the water helplessly, thoughts disorganized, muddled.

Then a hand grabbed my throat and pulled me up, out of the water. I gagged, unable to breathe, pain and panic searing into every last particle of my body. My arms flailed, my legs kicking out aimlessly. Michael. If he kept the pressure up he'd crush my windpipe.

I saw him through narrowed eye-slits. His intentions were clear. His expression was murderous, made me believe that I was looking at death himself. My death.

Panic. Fighting for life. For air. Not a good way to die.

Thoughts tumbled into disorientation as pain and the lack of air drove me into insanity. And through it all, through the mortal pain, I still heard Michael's voice.

"Are you really that naïve? Did you really think you're stronger than me?" He sneered. "There could be three of you and I'd kill you easily. There are more of us and you can't stop us. No one can."

Trapped in his steely grasp, I started to convulse. Violent coughs were working their way up my throat, no release. No air.

"Do you know what Thomas told me after he killed your witch friend? He said she was begging him not to kill her", he said, tossing the words into my face. "Tell me, will you beg?"

The small electric bolts started to emerge out of his hand. They moved directly into the mantle of skin over my throat, then deeper, penetrating my head, my arms. The power fried me from the inside out. The heat was filled with a thousand antsy insects, miniature, electric shocks scraping my organs and veins. There were two sensations warring with the oxygen-starved parts of my brain: pain and the need for air. I kept waiting for the absolving darkness to come, for me to pass out.

And still the fight hadn't wholly gone out of me. I thrashed and flailed in his grip. I was shaking all over. I couldn't scream, couldn't breathe with his hand clamped around my throat. My eyes started to widen, hands loosely at my sides. Trickles of warm wetness streamed down my cheeks. My vision was fading.