Test the Waters

He shivers in the cold water, dreaming of things that could never help with his problems. He lifts a leg lazily, watching the water ripple from the motion. The air is colder than the water. His leg drops. Slowly, he turns to his hands to find they look normal, to make sure. His clock hangs atop the bathroom mirror, but he’s slow to look at that too. His whole body seems sluggish, when he just got in there a minute ago. And yet, a minute ago the water was hot.

         Does he really want to look at the time? No, he doesn’t. But he has to, he knows he does. His head turns like a frogs, needlessly taking it’s time, his eyes bulging out and migrating to either side of his face. No, wait, they’re where they were before. Why did he think that? He imagined he saw himself, from a camera in the bathroom, aiming at the tub. He could feel eyes watching him as his face morphed. Except, it didn’t.

         The clock read twelve thirty. That was at least three hours after Matt had gotten into the tub. What was he doing? The bathtub was filled with warm water three hours ago, what happened since? He waved his hands around the water, still cold to the touch; it was almost refreshing. Then he noticed the water looked different. Not from his own eyes, but a view way above his head that obstructed his eyes with his curled hair. The water was turning red.

         Matt looked at his hands, travelling up his limb from the elbow to his shoulder. He saw cuts, deep bruises and sharp slices a little before his armpit. The camera couldn’t see them, but Matt could. For a second or more, he was Matt. And that was all it took for him to lose control. The next time he looked up, the bathtub was gone. He was waist deep in a small pond. Frogs turned their heads to him from the shore, a centimeter from his face. The ground beneath was muddy, slippery. The water was already dirty, with the red adding pigment to the murky depths.

         The pond was in a small forest of drooping trees, deep greens that tried to devour the sky. A log lay to the left of him. Lily pads coated the filmy water with something beautiful. Matt saw himself stare up at the sky. The world above was painted by orange and yellow, with brown clouds settling far away. The world beyond this pond was something new to explore and too beautiful to give up; but for now the sting of water on his cuts was too powerful to ignore.

         Matt plunged his head underneath the water, submerging his body into the world below him. It didn’t look as dirty underneath, his insides colouring the place around him a dull red while the rest was under a brown lens. He saw pearls of light hanging on the walls of the natural pool, illuminating the dirt walls better than the night sky. And then he heard the keys jingle in the front door. His head popped out of the water, his pond still beneath him.

         Where was the noise coming from? Matt searched for the source as he heard it move around the house. It took off it’s shoes, put it’s bag down like it always did, and knocked on the bathroom door. The sound came from far in front of him. “Yes?” Matt called out to the unknown. He could see the outline of a door, small shreds of light from his other world.

         “Can I come in?” the voice on the other side asked. It sounded like it always did.

         He murmurs in agreement, something that sounds like ‘okay’ and ‘alright’ and ‘maybe I want to die.’

         The outline solidifies into a sharp rectangle of light, enveloping a part of the forest flora. On the other side is your hallway, the place outside the bathroom he was in before he entered the pond. Matt hopes he doesn’t want much, he hopes he pays more attention to the situation. Matt stares.

         Elijah fixes his tie. “You want me to pay attention to you more?” He says something stupid, like ‘Did you stay in the bath all night again?’

         You turn away, Matt staring out of the corner of his eye at Elijah. “So?” He says back.

         "Another desperate attempt for my affection?"

         He nods, “I had dinner.”

         “I know you want me to kill you.” Then, Elijah just stares at you, leaning against the door like he’s waiting for something. His eyes are burning into you, even if they look like an empty burnt abyss themselves. You know what he really said. He wants Matt out of the pool, but you can’t do it. You are not Matt. He stares as the pearls, embedded on tiny glittering string, slowly jump off the wall. They swim to Matt’s direction, and he hesitantly lifts an arm, trying not to touch them.

         The blood escapes his veins, swirling in the water, and the pearls dart like eels to the wounds, binding his arms and desperately pulling him to the ground of the pond. Matt struggles, staring at him to do something. Elijah’s glasses look like the sunset above. You watch Matt, his head bobbing below water for a second before it erupts out of the murky water with a hideous scream.

         Elijah doesn’t notice. The pearls come again in more numbers, seizing his hands and neck, dragging his head below water. You try to scream, but he plays with the cuffs on his shirt. He doesn’t notice- Matt is dying, drowning in the pond beneath you both and he doesn’t see a thing. Why can’t he just turn around, realize what goes on when he’s not there? Why is it always Matt suffering.

         The burn of the forest is in Matt’s throat. The water tastes like blood and dirt, no matter how much he spits out of his mouth. It keeps coming in. The beautiful lights have trapped him, making him something to decorate the pond with. An ornament for their room. An underwater Christmas tree.

         He looks up. The reflection in his glasses is the bathroom, the pale tiles and blue curtains. “Okay, your bath is over.”

         Everything stops. The pearls are gone, erased from Matt’s pristine tub. Matt finds himself falling into the red water of the tub. Droplets leak onto the wet floor. He examines the world closely. The bathtub isn’t made of dirt or scum. The edges are all smoothed as he runs a hand over each wall. Amazing, he thinks. It’s amazing he can do that each time.