My head was being held underwater. I can't breathe, my chest is tightening, and I'm fighting as hard as I can to bring myself back up. I'm clawing at the hands that have an iron grip on me, keeping me down, waiting for me to go limp. I have to fight. My time was running out.
Every moment, I felt it. I felt the burning in my chest, the screams ripping through my throat. I felt myself grabbing onto the blurry figure in front of me, fighting hard against them lest they destroy me first. Their muffled yelling meant nothing to me, their tight grip and powerful blows matching mine. Every muscle in my body contracted, I can't remember breathing. Blood on my hands and face, pain coursing through my side, I had to fight. They can't win. I can't rest. My time was running out.