Complete stillness, not a shimmer or breeze, the water clear as day. She closed her eyes as she sank under. Breath had been exhaled, her body was limp, and she sank. Slowly, into the cool, she sank. Strands of golden white clung to the surface, while the rest became submerged, the last echo of her being. Then someone ruined it, and pulled her from life.
She did not sit alone at table that night, but that did not mean she was in company. Worried looks and glances sent by people who knew nothing. People eyed her as she left her plate empty, untouched. They did not understand that it was they who were killing themselves. They, as they stuffed themselves unthinkingly with whatever was placed in front of them. Not a question to what it was, or to why it was. Such a pathetic dependence is food. She watched people stuffing their faces and felt disgusted.
Even more eyes followed her as she rose from the hard, unforgiving wood that spanned the hall. She had to leave, everything here felt so harsh, so sharp. Splintered cells of wood clashed with cold steel and metal, terrific noises of scraping and hitting.
And then there was the noise of people. The drone of mindless chatter, the sound of humming, yelling, laughing, lies. Fake. Manufactured by people. The sound food being forced down a passage at the sound of a gulp, the crushing and mutilating by teeth, the image of a droplet of juice when it slides out and down from a mouth full of chewed meat.
She ran from the room and ran down the corridor, ran through the passage and up the stairs, and slammed the door behind her.
They did not understand; all those people. They thought she was trying to kill herself, but things never work like that. In truth, she wanted to be free. Free from the harshness of what they called life. To her, life was not something dependent on others, dependent on survival, dependent on replenishing whatever they already had in their mindless souls.
When she sank through the water, that was life. The cool feel of fluid against skin, the light behind the dark of her shut eyes, the sense of drifting and freedom, the sound of stillness, calm, tranquillity, that was life.
But they always pulled her from it, always ruined it. They kept her imprisoned.
She closed her eyes as she sank under. The white cloth that she wore streamed out around her, rose and copied the patterns of her hair.
Her body was free as she was claimed once again by the bare calm of water.
Then she felt a movement, a flurry, and prepared to be once more, ripped from her life.
But, there was nothing. She opened her eyes and green sparkles of light were looking right back. Through the clear she could see them, framed by black. White hair floated and touched black. A soft touch, intertwining. They gazed and were stunned by the beauty of life.
He raised his hand to her face. A soft touch, a whisper on her skin, they slid over her eyes. She closed them.
They sank to the bottom, finding what they both had been searching.
Complete stillness, in the cool, calm that was life.