Drown

2. You Don't Understand

When you're drowning, at first you panic. You're frantic to keep your mouth closed, because as long as you keep it shut, no water can get in and you'll be alive. It hurts but you'll be alive. You kick your feet but keep your hands almost still, reaching, reaching up for the surface like suddenly you'll have the ability to grab onto water.

And then finally when you realize that you're just sinking and everything is hurting-and your head feels like it's literally going to explode - you inhale real sharp, and then there's peace. That's what everyone says. That's what I know firsthand. There was peace for that second, and nothing hurt. I might of even smiled in my hazy, water logged state. Might of even smiled and stared up at the darkness and thought, this is okay.

It was okay until hands grabbed onto my shoulders.

Someone was pumping their hardest at my chest. "Come on," they said and I could tell it was a male by the gruffness in their voice, the strong steadiness of their hands. "Come on, you're okay, please."

That's what I'd been telling myself when I was drowning.

I'm okay. This is okay. Let this be okay.

"Please," and I could hear a desperate note in their voice and I could feel their hands pumping even harder like maybe if they tried hard enough, it would bring me back. "You're not fucking dying, you're not," they said over and over and I could tell they were trying to convince themselves more than me.

And I felt so heavy. So full of water. And I realized that I might die. Truly die. And you're supposed to feel panic, feel something-literally anything. It's like when you almost get hit by a car when you're not paying attention and you stumble backwards onto the sidewalk and you clutch you're heart like, thank God I didn't just die I'm too young much too young for that. But I felt none of that panic, just this heavy almost satisfied feeling of, maybe I really will. Maybe I'll die, and that won't be so bad.

That feeling was short lived because in a second, one more hard pump to my chest, and the water was fighting its way up my throat, burning like fire, and my eyes immediately watered as I coughed it up. I heaved until what felt like a bucket of water suddenly made its way out of my chest. I rolled over so I was on my side, my cheek pressed against the sand and I panted hard for a second. I still felt heavy, but much less than I did before. In the background I could hear him saying, "Breathe, just breathe," and I let myself breathe like he kept telling me to but everything inside of me was screaming, you should've just let me die. You should've let the ocean swallow me up.

And then I felt the intense urge to start crying, this crushing feeling pressing on my chest hard, making it harder to breathe than it already was, and I didn't want him to see. Didn't want anyone to see. I closed my eyes and let out a shaky breath. Don't cry, don't cry, don't-fucking-cry. I clapped a hand over my mouth to muffle the low sound that came from my throat as I slowly lost it.

"Hey uh," he said in a low voice that sounded hesitant.

"Go," I said, then I winced. "Please go," I said and it came out as an embarrassing pant as I tried to hold in a sob.

"Okay," he said, his voice slightly high and uneven. "Just please don't jump in the ocean again, okay?"

I looked towards him in bewilderment and my eyes were filled with moisture and I was on the urge of sobbing, and my whole body was shuddering, but I managed to hold it in as he stared at me, cautious. It's like he knew I was only holding on by a thin thread.

We stared at each other, and I took him in. He was gangly and thin, that much I could tell. He hadn't bothered to shed any clothing in his haste to get into the water, and his t-shirt was sticking to him like a second skin. His dark hair was matted down on his forehead from the water and he had dark freckles on his nose that oddly enough, suited his face. I noticed a tiny beauty mark on the edge of his jaw, and then two more on his neck.