Scott (Edited)

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I'm a swimmer.

I've trained regularly since I was six years old, three times a week. Water has always been like a secondary home to me. I adored swimming and diving and in summer, nothing has pleased me more than being in water – the closest to flying I could get.

And yes, I've always wanted to fly.

Once, I stopped the time I spent underwater. I can hold my breath for two minutes and forty-three seconds.

Now, deep down in that greenish blue, in that blubbery liquid, I can solely think of how long I'll be able to hold my breath now.

How long am I going to stay alive? How long will it take until my body stops fighting and finally lets the water in? How long will it take until my lungs are filled with it? How long until my heart will stop beating?

I grant myself some minutes, something about three and a half probably. Maybe more. I never did research on how long a human being can actually survive without fresh air and without the choice to just break through the surface to inhale.

Minutes. I've got minutes left.

They're going to be painful. Long and yet simultaneously so short.

And hell. I'm scared.


"Vio, I have to tell you something", I struggle to get the words out and I can't look at her when they finally stumble from my lips. I'm shaking slightly and my hands are balled to fists.

I shoot a quick glance at her, at her brown eyes filled with compassion and sympathy, but also dolour, and I see her smiling. It's not a happy smile, and I know she already has a faint clue on what I'm about to say.

"Vio, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so in love with you," my voice trembles, and I can't help but let a few of the tears escape. "I'm sorry," I repeat and try to hide my face from her because I don't want her to see.

But then she's already here and her body is warm and petite as she hugs me tightly.

"You know I love you, Scott," she soothes into my ear in a voice husky of tenderness.

'But not in the way I love you.'

I can't say anything because I'm too afraid to actually say those words. It's not her fault that I love her in a different way than she loves me.

So I just bury my face in her of violets scenting hair, foolhardily begging for the feelings to get buried too.


I reach out for Vio's hand as I realize what the scenery in front of me means.

Luke, Allie, Noemi... my friends... they're dead.

Presumably that's what Vio's trying to say as she looks at me with an abandoned, tortured expression on her beautiful features.

The heaviness in my heart makes me cramp as I see her squalling words I can't understand, but I can understand that she's crying, that she's suffering.

"I'm sorry," I try to say, but my words remain nothing more than bubbles as the water conquers them.

So instead I tighten my grip around her hand.

And Vio looks at me, her eyes wide open, scouring for the life that all of us once held. It's leaving us now, and I feel it more with every second as my lungs scream in pain. But I fight the urge to breathe in.

I will not die here. I will not die today.

I ram my elbow against the window, attempt to open the door, kick against it with might and main, but the water's slowing my movements down.

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