Drowning

Drowning



“Because I said so,” yelled the teen.

What else was he suppose to say, “please”? No, he was in control and they had to know. with one swift motion the rest of the class did as he said. Grin on his face, the adolescent looked at students in front of him. Looking around the room, the teen saw what he has seen every morning for nearly ten months. Simple white walls, the longer desk in the corner covered with papers, resembling the autumn ground. The picture of Martin Luther King standing with a fist raised during one of his near forgotten speeches. The prayer table in the corner complete with a bible and rosary, to him religion was for the weak in mind with too much imagination. Then there were the array of desks in the center of the room.

While overlooking the desk and not the occupants the teens gaze found a familiar desk, center in the last row beside the window. Outside that window the sky was clear except for the clouds on the horizon. However, in the center of the clear sky was a silhouette of a crimson painted moon. Which is something in itself, because the teen had never seen the sun and the moon out at the same time. Little did he know that his grin turned into a smile. A smile that made others assume that he was enjoying what he was doing.

But in reality, whatever that is, he was thinking about the sensational sensation that washed over his body, like the current lifting and pushing the hair on ones body, calm but ever present. His fingers were tingling, with excitement; his palms dry, with the absence of fear; his knees holding strong; as if he were Atlas; his chin high, like a homecoming hero; his heart beating, like African war drums the morning of a battle; his breath, there was none. Everything about this felt right except that he wasn’t breathing.

The realization of not breathing made the teen feel like he really was underwater. The feeling was otherworldly. Once again ignoring the sensation he returned to the class in front of him. This time looking at the students in the desk, the student himself was hit with a wave of emotion. The class that was looking back at him wasn’t feeling as serene as he was. Each face was different, but all held the same emotion, they were all scared of him. There were people crying, others hiding their faces, some were trembling, while there were a few who were blank, but all were scared. Suddenly his serene feeling turned into one of panic.

The teen almost expected for the imaginary water to turn ice cold, but his amazement the water started to get warm. He think about what he was doing, if these people deserved this, was it too late to stop? Finally emerging from the water the teen stole a breath of air. It was never too late to do anything. Letting his head, arm, and shoulders drop the teen just stood there and breathed. With his eyes closed the teen watch imaged float in and out of his dark view, one thought lead to another and eventually he thought of her. He thought of the memory that took place beside a garage, this brought a smile to his face. A shuffle once again brought the teen back to reality, only to see a face in a sea of faces. This face stood out. It was her plain white face, with hazel-green eyes that were hidden behind glasses, and the shoulder length blond hair pushed behind pierced ears.

She was the reason for his happiness for the last ten months, but really it has been for the last year and a half. She was the reason he was here now, she was the reason for what he was doing, she deserved this, and for here it was too late to stop. He couldn’t stop, he wouldn’t let himself stop. He heard his teeth start to grind, he could feel the anger build up inside him. But all he could do was stare, and watch her stare back at him.

What he couldn’t understand was that she looked at him as if she didn’t know who he was. Thinking about this he realized that she didn’t know who he was, all he remembers never really happened, all his happiness was imaginary. Fake, that’s what his life has been. Still unable to look up he watched as tears fell and hit his shoes. His fingers no longer tingled but were in pain; his palms were still dry, but he was scared; his knees were resembling a giraffes, fragile and exposed; his chin was digging into his chest, like a child who wet his bed; his heart wasn’t beating, or he couldn’t hear it; his breath was again non-existent. His thoughts were clouded, his vision blurred, and couldn’t figure out what to do.

Not thinking he raised his arm and tightened his index finger, he heard the trigger click. There were screams, but he didn’t care. There was the dark of the deep and he was sinking there was nothing that he could do. All he could do was stare at her until his stare was empty, until he drowned.