『 Prologue 』
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"Can you tell me what it feels like to drown?"
What it feels like to drown?
What a stupid question.
Drowning is something that one hears about all the time. Whether it be from an unfortunate story on the news you just happened to hear when passing by the TV, or from a newspaper article you glance, or watching a lifeguard jump valiantly into the dark aquamarine water to save a little kid that begun to flail helplessly when you're on your annual trip to the beach.
Drowning is just...one of those things.
You see it one the news, you know how it works by just reading the definition of the word. Something that could be so calm and so soothing can go wrong so quickly. Everyone thinks they're such a good swimmer, that paddling against the waves is their second nature and that water itself couldn't be so dangerous. Water is the basis of life, of existence, of every living cell...and it can submerge those same cells in an instant.
It seems so utterly simple, such an easy way to die. To be trapped under waves as clear as glass while looking up at the surface, knowing you're too far down beneath it to even think about escaping. You can't even tell which was is up because your brain is too foggy to understand that you're not breathing. Water surrounds you and tells you: no, you're not leaving, you are mine; it's a terrifying way to die. Easy, quiet, lonely, yet terrifying.
So cynically simple.
You can't feel the horror of being filled with water up to your brim as you struggle alone. Lungs collapsing and liver failing as they become overwhelmed by the outside force that isn't as dense as blood, but it's so much more dangerous as it filters into areas that it shouldn't be. It spills out your mouth because your organs can't contain it all inside of you and released it back to the ocean that forced it inside of you in the first place.
You can't hear the attempted screams of the victim smothered in the dense liquid, robbing them of their breath and ability to speak. Lungs cannot supply air to the vocal chords and throat because they are so filled with the liquid that doesn't belong there in the first place. Besides, who cares for you anyway? Nobody ever listened to you in the first place. You're already too far gone.
You can't taste the chlorinated water of the swimming pool as the panic in your mind suppressed the burning sensation. Your nerves set ablaze while your heart spasms and twitches your insides because water tickles you like bugs crawling over your skin, the fear factor of death suppresses all senses as it tries to override itself into life, not knowing that there's practically no hope for you anyway.
But you can feel the heavy weight of your water-filled lungs dragging to down, losing your ability to float. Everything you've learned about swimming is gone, your own skin is too heavy and your limbs seem to try to pull you back up with fruitless flails. They're as good a small stumps and can only hurt your chances or survival from here on out.
You can hear the blood flowing through your veins, knowing it's losing its rich red color while you can't supply it oxygen. Your own mind begins to hate you and punishes you by swelling up your veins and making your head ache from the sounds within your head. Blood is all you have and now it's turned against you, giving you no chance to even hear if someone is coming to save you. They're not.
You can taste the iron coating your tongue and fill the back of your mouth with a slimy bile, knowing you caused this yourself by biting your tongue too hard in an attempt to keep yourself from inhaling water. Vomit burns against your esophagus and you want it to stop, but the taste of blood and death coats your tongue and mocks you, knowing you can't open your mouth or breathe unless you're willing to die.
But then the first involuntary breath happens.
The brain in your skull seems to expand, pounding on your innards to open a hatch and fill with oxygen, god knows you can't live without it. Your body knows that it can't breathe, but it doesn't care, it knows that action must be taken if you want even a sliver of chance to survive. You'll claim how much you may have mastered the statement 'mind over matter,' everyone knows that matter overrules and takes advantage of a de-oxygenized brain.
In the pursuit to live, your mouth opens on its own. You can't help but writhe in pain as the chemical filled water tries to satiate your lungs in place for air. It tries so hard, so desperately, to become something that it is not. The water wants to become air so much that it forces its way into your body, trying to prove its worth. It's like shoving a round peg into a square hole, it'll never work, no matter how much you try...oil and water never mix. Always separate, always different.
It's so much worse than what you could've expected.
The calescent sensation strikes your organs like a dull axe, causing you to flinch at your own demise again and again and again. It burns it burns it burns it burns it burns it burns it burns. The liquid once cold now alit in rage as it washes over your entire demeanor, giving you no chance to fight back as it continues to swing, stab, beat, and pulverize all life that you once held in your body.
After. Every. Single. Breath.
Who knew that what we as humans could be so malignant? We wade in the liquid for fun! We exert ourselves to survive something so much stronger than us-for fun. To be to so insanely ignorant and benighted that the term "pool" or "beach" is seen as a lighthearted and boisterous thing. We are so evil to water, so malicious, atrocious. So it turn, it swallows us whole in the sake of revenge.
Feeling complacent with yourself comes next. You begin to think 'I didn't even want to be here in the first place.' Then you envisage the arms of the pool wrapping around you, giving you a hug that alleviates the contempt you feel for the water. The burning is still there but so is the feeling of cold release, the escape that the water hands you is just outside your reach, you just have to be patient. The stabbing pain becomes dull as you realize something.
'i'M gOiNG tO DiE.'
So you inhale as much water as you can, watching the crystal waves around you become gray, as dead as death could be. The numbness in your chest and throat doesn't matter anymore, it's all going to be over soon. Writhe in agony as much as you can in these last few seconds, remember the world as a sickly place filled with contempt, or you can welcome your loss easily. Giving up just becomes the easier way out.
You stop thrashing, letting your eyelids block out the scattered rays of sunlight that break through the surface. The darkness is better anyways. It holds you close but expands so wide, it covers everything you know like a blanket, making you feel at one with the environment. The sunlight may feel warm, but somewhere else in the world, it is dark. For their misfortunes you are not allowed to be happy, burn with them, join them in the depths of the sinister world that you live in.
When were you ever comfortable with death? What was the certain point you decided that the effort to live wasn't enough of a prize in the battle you were placed in? You were in the water unwillingly, but it was a battle that you were now forced to fight. But the surmounting density swallows you whole and you abandon all of your morals and goals in the hopes that you would die like the coward you are.
You put yourself here.
There's a point in drowning where you abandon all hope and close your heart off from the world, letting yourself succumb to the forces of the beyond. Everything tells you to just quit, it's the point where your spirit breaks and the understanding of everything beyond your shallow grave is incomprehensible. Too far down, too dark to see, too far gone to find, too late. You realize that time has passed you by and all you can do is watch as you know life shall continue as if you had never died.
All you know in that very moment is water. And all that knows you is water. And all you can do is stare as the water robs you of the light that's in your chest and replaces it with the deafening silence of your failure. You've given up, and sadly, you are now ready to die. To think one can feel so devastated in mere minutes that they decide that life is just perception and the reality of life isn't ever there, it's just lies and hurt and death...life is nothing.
You've failed, and nobody is going to save you.
"Ms. Y/N?"
The teenager bit her bottom lip softly as her head tilted up from the floor, her eyes meeting the penetrating gaze of the school nurse. Tearing her eyes away again, she kept her sights on the light blue tiles of the floor. She hadn't responded in a good amount of time, as if this was a video game where you had a timer that made it so you're life was harder. But no, it's not a game, it's life.
"I'm sorry, Recovery Girl, I can't really remember too well." The girl sitting on one of the cots lied blatantly, not knowing that the retired pro-hero in front of her could pick apart her façade. She had tried to be strong, but the memory of that day was too fresh, too deep, too soon, too...everything.
"Well, alright, I guess this checkup was unneeded," the elderly woman said, standing up from her chair, not believing her own words-only saying them to try and cheer up the young girl, "if you think I wasted your time, you can blame Nezu for that." She chucked softly in her weathered tone.
The taller of the two girls laughed lightheartedly, knowing that the words from the staff member was in good faith of cheering the girl up. But even to her, the laugh she produced was as fake as the laugh-tracks on American Sitcoms. Y/N mentally cringed as how dead her voice sounded, she had never sounded so cold and fake, even when she was trying to do so in the past.
"And know, missy," Chiyo said, waving her finger in front of the first year student, trying to make sure the girl knew of the opportunities she had at Yuuei and the experienced people she could communicate with, "that if you ever need to talk to anyone, I'll be here."
"Will do." Y/N said without too much emotion.
Fixing the gloves on her hands, the teen made sure that the ends were tucked into her black long sleeved undershirt, not exposing any skin that was easy to touch. Fiddling with the fabric was somewhat of a stress-reliever for the heroics student, but she tried to make the action as unnoticeable from her fellow classmates-knowing that letting them understand her emotions was a disadvantage.
"Thanks for the consultation, hopefully I won't have to see you anytime soon."
Walking out of the door to the nurses office, Hidaka Y/N had only one goal in mind...
Find classroom 1-A.
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Praeceptor Perimus- latin. [to drown]