Inhale

1st Person.

1st Person.

I stumbled and spread my arms wide, balancing myself on the uneven rocks. I waited until I had regained my footing, cursing my choice in footwear. The sandals I wore sure looked nice but they were far from practical, having no grip whatsoever. Walking on dry, level ground would probably be made dangerous by the death traps I’d strapped on that morning.

Muttering under my breath, I resumed my journey, alternating between watching where I placed my feet, and watching the progression of the waves crashing against the rocks only a few feet away.

Not far to go now.

Granted, when the friendly waitress had suggested visiting the crystal-studded caves, I was positive she had meant for that visit to be in the middle of the day, and there was no way she would have approved of my impromptu shortcut across the rocks. But what was the point in living if I didn’t take risks every now and again. I scowled, knowing I was being stupid. I shouldn’t have let what he said get to me. That no-good, rotten- No! I wasn’t even going to think his name; he wasn’t worth the time or energy. Not anymore.

A particularly strong wave crashed against the edge of the rocks. I stopped, fear creeping up on me as I realised what an irresponsible situation I’d gotten myself into. Turning in slow increments, I glanced back to the beach, trying to gauge how far I’d come and how long it would take to get back versus continuing on to the caves.

God, when had it gotten so dark?

My heart thumped painfully in my chest, goose bumps prickling my skin as I suddenly noticed the cool wind coming in from the sea. I rubbed my arms, making a split-second decision to continue on to the caves. They seemed to be closer, and I figured that once I was there, I could take the longer, sandy track back around the rocks to the beach.

Blowing out a breath, I set off once more.

It was the loud crash of the wave, and the sudden spray of icy water that startled me, causing me to lose my balance. One foot slid out from under me, my ankle twisting painfully in a gap in the rocks. I wind-milled my arms in an attempt to regain my footing, my stomach lurching with a terror unlike anything I’d ever experienced. I fell, my mouth opened in a silent scream.

I managed to gasp one measly breath of air before I hit the water with bruising force. I was immediately pulled under, the strong current overwhelming my strength easily.

Which way was up?

I kicked out with arms and feet, my eyes searching the dark for the surface. My limbs felt like lead and my throat closed over, as much from fear as from lack of oxygen. The cold was unbearable and I quickly lost all feeling in my body, but still I persevered, unwilling to give up.

The pain made my head feel as if it was about to explode as I fought the urge to take a deep breath in, the pressure of the ocean seeming to leech the very life out of me. Using the last of my greatly diminished strength, I swam in what direction I hoped was up, arm stretched out as if hoping someone would take hold of me and pull me to safety.

Of course that didn’t happen. No one knew where I was. No one was coming to save me.

Unable to hold off any longer, I inhaled. Water flooded my mouth and lungs and an impenetrable blackness encroached on what limited vision I had under the water. All too easily, I gave up the fight, letting myself be pushed and pulled by the tide. It wasn’t so bad now, I reflected; almost peaceful, actually.

I had been so close. But that didn’t matter anymore. Nothing did. I let myself drift; releasing the ties to life I had grasped so tightly when my body first hit the water.

Then I was gone.

In the end, dying was the easiest part. Being brought back to life was much harder. From within my own personal solitude, I felt a distant pressure, the rhythmic thumping becoming more insistent and harder to ignore with each second. I longed to swat it away, like an annoying fly buzzing about my head on a hot summer’s day.

Except, I realised, I had no arms to command. I floated freely in the darkness, unconstrained by any form.

Suddenly, a new rhythm made itself known, this time the sound a dull roar pounding in what used to be my ears. I was listening to my own heartbeat.

I felt myself being pulled up and up, legs and arms separating into recognisable shapes, neck elongating, and fingers and toes clenching.

A fiery pain travelled through my chest and up my throat into my mouth. I coughed and spluttered, expelling endless amounts of water from my lungs. I felt myself being turned onto my side as I continued to retch, and I instinctively curled into a ball, trying to protect myself from the pain bombarding me.

Eventually, it subsided to more manageable levels, though my head continued to throb. I became aware of the sounds around me; voices, distant cars, and the crash of waves on the sand. I was on the beach.

How did I get here?

Last thing I remembered, I was being pulled to the bottom of the ocean.

A wonderfully warm and dry blanket was draped over my body and I forced myself to open my salt encrusted eyes. The night was lit by the pale glow of the moon and intermittent flashes of blue. A man and a woman in uniform crouched over me; paramedics, I realised. The pressure I had felt had been them administering CPR. 

They gently rolled me onto a stretcher, strapping me tightly onto the board, a brace holding my head and neck immobile.

My eyes were drawn to my right. A man had risen from the ground, a blanket clutched around his otherwise bare shoulders. He wore only a pair of soaking wet jeans, and his hair was plastered to his head. He watched me closely, face contorted with concern. He must have rescued me from the water; it didn’t take a genius to figure that out.

An intense wave of gratitude washed over me and I opened my mouth to express my thanks – he had risked his life for me, after all – but nothing came out.

The man smiled like he knew exactly what I was trying to do, trying to say. In a surprising move, he reached out and grasped my hand in his. He felt warm against my icy skin and I held on as tightly as my clumsy digits would allow. Until that very second, I hadn’t realised that someone being there to hold my hand was exactly what I needed.

He didn’t let go as I was loaded into the back of the ambulance, the flashing blue of the sirens still lighting the night.

“Don’t leave” I managed to croak, my voice a painful rasp.

He smiled again, taking a seat next to me.

“I won’t. I promise.”