Stopwatch

The lake wasn't very large, one of the smallest I had ever seen. That didn't stop me from swimming in it every chance I got. Then I stopped swimming and started holding my breath.

I bought an underwater stopwatch to time myself with. Every time I held my breath, I tried to stay under the water longer. I felt safe there, like nothing could hurt me. I went from 30 seconds to 1 minute. 1 minute to 1 minute and 25 seconds. Every time I stayed longer, even if it was just by a few seconds.

I loved the feeling of being completely alone underwater. I loved how, when I jumped in the lake, everything around me ceased to exist. There were no cars, no people, no barking dogs, no police sirens-nothing. I was all alone and I loved that feeling. It was when I went back to the surface that everything returned.

When I am underwater I can fool myself into thinking everything is okay. My parents are going to stay together, my dad is going to stop hurting us, we won't get thrown out of our apartment for not having enough money to pay the rent and my brother's cancer will disappear. Everything will be okay--no, better than okay. Everything will be perfect, better than I could ever imagine.

I thought that if I could stay underwater for just a little while longer, things would change. Just a few more seconds. . .but my body would scream for air and I would be forced to go to the surface.

Then the stopwatch broke, it stopped counting the time for me. I tried to do it myself but I always lost count, I never knew how long I had been underwater. I still tried to hold my breath for longer, though I was positive that I was staying under for less and less time no mater how hard I tried.

Now, I take out the broken stopwatch and dive into the icy water. I force my eyes open and stare at the stopwatch. I hold myself under the water by gripping the pier. I refuse to move until the stopwatch reaches 1 minute and 45 seconds. The stopwatch never moves, so neither do I. At first, it is peaceful, then it begins to get uncomfortable. My lungs beg me to go to the surface and my body tells me that I will pass out very soon.

I think only of the what will happen if I go to the surface before the stopwatch reaches 1 minute and 45 seconds. My parents will split up, my dad will start hurting me more because I will have to live with him, we will get thrown out of our apartment, and my brother will die. I know these things will happen if I allow myself to breathe again. If I allow my body to breathe, I will be damning my family to pain and suffering. I will no longer be safe.

My vision gets hazy and my lungs continue to beg for air. Suddenly I can no longer keep my eyes open, the stopwatch fades from view. I try to force my eyes open, I need to see the stopwatch, I need to see how much time is left. My attempts are in vain, my body can no longer hold on.

My very last thought concerns the broken stopwatch and the cold, cold water.