𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 have forsworn love. For love is not a possibility for the life they currently live, only a mere fairytale a mother would tells her young children. But for...
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𝐃 𝐫 𝐚 𝐠 𝐨 𝐧 𝐃 𝐫 𝐞 𝐚 𝐦 𝐬 𝟐𝟕𝟖 𝐀𝐂 | 𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐭
Air. Air. I need to breathe. Were the words that ran through Nyrella's mind as she hit the surface of the stagnant lake. The impact was painful–burned even, despite her entire body fully submerged in the cool waters. Her breath ripped from her lungs, and quickly swelled up with a choke full of the bitter liquid. She tried her best to hold the remaining air in her mouth, but it was close to nothing. Her eyes jutted open to see the surface feets away from her, reflecting the world she was desperate to breathe again.
She clawed her hands through the water, using her legs to kick herself up to the illuminating light, but she only found herself sinking deeper and deeper into the darkness. Her eyes burned with no choice but to close them. Her ears popped at the pressure of the depth causing them to ring painfully in irritation. She was desperate, desperate for the surface.
It was this desperation that made her panic boil over. With everything she's got, she frantically pushes and kicks through the water, reaching her hands as far as they can reach. The remaining air in her mouth slowly escaped through the corners of her lips with every stroke. As if the lake were alive, it did not want to let her go. The water grew heavier with every resistance she made. The water gripped around her limbs, pulling her into the confines of the deep.
Her chest felt like caving-in, pulsating painfully with the rhythm of her heartbeat, that seemed only to get louder and louder as she sank. She wanted to scream. Do anything to get out. But as she opened her eyes again, she was farther away from the surface than when she first opened them. The hope in her mind of escape dwindled like the breath in her lungs.
Then, she thought about them. The people she cared about, who were waiting at the surface of the lake. She wondered if they knew she was drowning, and fighting to resurface and be with them once again. She wanted to feel their warmth, not the cold embrace of the desolate lake. She prayed with every being of her soul that they realized something was wrong. But, they could not see her, hear her, or anything else. She was in too deep.
There was only one thing she could do...wait.
Nyrella instinctively wrapped her hands around her throat, trying desperately to hold her breath for longer. Her body craved the sweet savor of oxygen. It was enticing, alluring like the song of sirens in fairytales and myths. She knew better not to listen to her grieving mind, denying the prospects, but she was hanging on a loose thread. She wanted a breath, to taste her own version of ambrosia, the nectar of the gods.
And she did. Her hands became limp as she took a deep, deep breath. Yet, there was no satisfaction. The hunger for oxygen did not curb as she continued to inhale large amounts of water. She felt the liquid burn her throat all the way to her lungs. The feeling of water filling her lungs was a heavy pain like pushing a rock up a steep mountain. In the end, the weight of water pressed inside her hurt badly.
