Seawater
I flounder; my hands slap the water and my legs thrash helplessly; panic seizes my brain, rational thought flees; I gasp for air and suck in only seawater.
The midday sun ripples in my vision. Thick walls of water cover me, pushing me down, crushing my throbbing lungs. I hold out for a few minutes, desperate to survive. What a fool I've been, thinking that I could handle her Ocean.
But I was curious. I just had to go, so I laughed and swam away from the cries. I wanted to see how far I could go on my own, how long my endurance would last.
I should have known that it would be too much. When the waves started crashing crazily around me, why didn't I stop and turn back? And now the sun is just a vague bright spot in the dark world I'm sinking into. I let my last breath out; it goes up in a spastic jumble of bubbles and quickly disappears.
And she's not here to help me out of this one.