Against the Universe - After ONE 18

SIX | Liquid Dreams

The surface of the water closed far above him, or maybe there was no surface at all. It didn't matter, because he sank so deep he wouldn't ever reach it.

He wanted to breathe, but he couldn't. His lungs were burning. His lungs wanted to implode with how much he struggled not to take a breath.

Both of his legs, stiff and immovable, were pulling him down. Liam swung his arms at the water, frantically trying to swim. 

But the water pushed back.

The water attacked him from every direction, squeezing him in a terrible force of pressure. Liam choked, giving up what little of air he had left.

Eventually, he had to inhale; liquid filled his insides. Seemingly cool and fresh, yet its presence never meant to put down the fire in his lungs, rather acting as a fuel. He wanted to scream, but he couldn't. 

Trying and trying and trying, against the hostile water, against the pool, against his legs' weight, reaching for a rescue. But the more he tried, the less he could move and perceive, and he only sank faster.

At last, the fire in his lungs died down when no more energy or desire was fueling it, and with the fire so did the panic.

He could feel his thoughts drowning in the abyss somewhere else.

He wanted to stay conscious, but he couldn't.

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The backpack woke up to the feeling of water absolutely soaking him. His mind rushed - was he drowning again?

Nonono get me out get me out of here PLEASE I NEED TO BREATHE I NEED TO BREATHE I NEED TO-

He took a big gasp.

Air, it was there, he could breathe he could breathe ohgoshhecouldbreatheagain

Air tasted sweet, caressing his crying, debilitated lungs. He had been suffocating way too much recently. Was he just choked by someone or did he drown?

Grass blades brushed his skin, no wooden walls blocked his view. Not the pool then. 

It's okay, I'm safe, I'm not there, he tried to convince himself. Concentrating, he felt a very real touch of his makeshift cast. I didn't die. If he had, his leg would have been perfectly healed. Both legs would have, in fact.

Wetness still enveloped him though, him as well as the grass around him. Oh. It must've rained at night... which had probably triggered the nightmare. It didn't help that now memories of the pool intertwined with the ones connected to the vines. He looked at the sky for a moment, attempting to calm down, recollecting his mind; he inhaled sharply, but felt the slightest tinge of relief about not being in danger. At least for now.

The backpack pushed himself up and grabbed his crutch. He remembered he wanted to replace the cast, as the previous one caused him much less pain. But the Plane had to be checked on first. So he got up on unstable legs, kept the crutch close and hobbled to the cave.

The vines hanging at the entrance disgusted him. They definitely needed to be cut off later.

Everything inside seemed just as he had left it: the planet, the stool, the table, the bright screen which of course didn't turn off.