Drowning.
The thought evades my mind and washes away all my senses of perception. Survival mode erupts in my brain, and instantly, nothing matters besides self-preservation. I was like an organism that participated in natural selection against its will. If I failed to adapt, then I would cease to exist.
Drowning.
I'm not drowning in water, but in the hollowness of my mentality. For some reason, I'm not able to lift myself above the metaphorical waves of my mind. It seems like every time a sound for help emits from my mouth, the crowd of onlookers gradually dissipates until there is no one left. They've all chosen what side of the tide they're going to be on, and they're going to defend that side until the very end.
When you're drowning, you have no choice but to release your airways and inhale what will eventually terminate your life.
My eyes fluttered open, the sun's majestic rays infiltrating through my translucent curtains. What was the point of them if they failed to block out the sunlight? I didn't want to awaken from my slumber. It bothered me to know that I would awaken from the nightmare unscathed, only to be plunged into the new nightmare of reality where it was possible that more people than me would be harmed.
"Sweetie, are you okay?" my mother inquired. Her voice was soft and held a certain warmth to it that illuminated your entire body when she spoke. I nodded my head vigorously in response, my unruly curls flouncing all over the place. Her hand caressed my back, and I instantly melted into her touch.
I ignored my mother and gazed out of the window and into the endless firmament. Thunder and lightening controlled the sky, the ultimate duo, wreaking havoc on the unprotected. Rain fell harshly, slapping against the windows, streaking them. Shadowed clouds slowly rolled in, gradually blocking out the sunlight's filtering beams. I turned my head sharply and answered my mother.
"I'm just keen," I muttered through clenched teeth. I couldn't risk telling her my dream; they'd think I'd have paranoia. Her hands suddenly began to stroke my hair. I winced under her touch, and she noticed. Slothfully, she removed her hands from my body completely. I instantly regretted it; I longed for my mother's loving touch.
"Are you sure? Nick, why are you still sitting at the table? Breakfast was over almost thirty minutes ago." Why did she have to worry over little petty things? She didn't know what I knew; she didn't know the peril.
I lamely shrugged my shoulders in response. "I don't know," I prevaricated. The truth: I was contemplating on something she wouldn't even be able to fathom.
"Could you possibly come interact with the family?" she asked. I glanced at her eyes and noticed that they held a depth that I was certain my father wasn't even cognizant of. Without knowing I was doing it, my head nodded in the familiar pattern of up and down.
"Good!" She clasped her hands together in a pleased gesture. I allowed a slight grin to form on my face for the sake of my mother. She leaned down and gently pressed her lips to my cheek, not lingering too long. Before I could utter "goodbye," she was headed into the living room to join the rest of the family.
I stood up and pushed my chair backwards. Hearing it screech on our tile floor made my body shudder involuntarily. I sidestepped to the left, and then went to push the chair back in its proper position. My jeans chaffed against themselves as I walked into the living room and sat myself down on the love seat that was stationed in the corner of the room. My eyes closed and my body molded into the shape of the couch. I could feel their—Kevin, Joe, my father and mother's—eyes on me; I disregarded their gazes.
My mother was standing on a grave—her father, our grandfather's grave. It had been several years since we had mentioned him. I was only ten when he had passed; I was now sixteen. My father, brothers, and I surrounded her, though we weren't standing on his burial mound.
The sky was still overcast, and rain began to beat down on us, drenching my family and me instantly. The only exception was that my mother stayed dry. Her curly haired ringlets stayed intact as they framed her down-titled face. I stayed silent, only out of respect for our deceased grandfather.
The rain poured harder, pounding our unsheltered bodies, and blocking our line of vision. I could faintly make out my mother's shape as she bent down and wrapped her arms around his tombstone. If even possible, the rain felt as if it were drowning us out. I could hear Kevin and Joe gasping for breaths, as I was doing the same. The steady flow of rain proceeded, basically drowning us.
My mother whipped her head up, and her eyes looked vacant. Her body robotically stood up, her movements stiff and influent. She progressed towards us, but when she tried to exit her waterless sphere, the water instantaneously vanished off of my brothers, father, and I, and filled up my grandfather's mound.
Almost as if there were a transparent barrier withholding the water, it stayed contained—with my mother trapped inside of it. She hadn't lost that inanimate look to her eyes as the water rose above her head. She stayed rooted to the ground, not even attempting to save herself.
"Mom!" I screamed. I feared for her life; how could she not do so? I watched helplessly as my mother opened her mouth, a tide of blood erupting from it and staining the water a dark red. Slowly, the red grew shadier until my mother, my father's wife, was no longer visible.
I dropped to all fours as I watched my perplexed brothers shout at nothing. The sound of breaking glass filled the air and I snapped my head up. My mother's corpse lie on the ground, everything stained rubicund, including her once pristine skin.
My father knelt down and lifted her eyelid. What showed shocked me. Her entire eye was black and showed no signs of having been the light hazel they were. Her hair was soiled, and the rank odor of blood traveled and invaded my nostrils. I was repulsed at the sight of my mother.
"She's—she's dead," my father mumbled. His body visibly shook. Our mother was dead.
Somebody shook my body hard, and I opened my eyes. I was staring directly into Kevin's hazel orbs. "Where's mom?" I gasped. Kevin looked alarmed.
"She's… she's—ugh—upstairs," he answered skeptically.
Oh god, no, I thought as I raced up the steps, taking two at a time. Please… no. Eventually, I made it to the top, slightly short of breath.
I poked my head in every room, not locating her. My heart started to beat erratically; I was positive it was going to hammer out of my chest. The last room led me to the bathroom. Hesitantly, I pushed the door open, revealing nothing out of the ordinary. I stepped closer, wanting to be sure that nothing was wrong.
My feet padded against the floor of the bathroom. My eyes widened as I saw that the bath tub was filled with water. I approached it closer, and saw a curly head of hair, face down, floating in the water. Still dressed in her usual daily attire, my mother was in the tub, unmoving. My fingers gently poked her skin. It was cold and hard.
"Mom?" I shakily asked, hoping that I would get a response. No other sound was made except for my rattled breathing. "Mom?" I asked more urgently, in a higher pitch. "Mom!"
She was dead; she had drowned. Was this what I had caused?
When you're drowning, you have no choice but to release your airways and inhale what will eventually terminate your life.
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REVIEW PLEASE! I hope that you all enjoyed this. I loved writing it ;)
-Jia