.Shane POV
I finally made it to the lake, about a minute after Mitchie had. I'd seen her get ready to jump, but I'd yelled too late. When I got there, there was no sign of her. I figured she'd been down there for a minute and a half now, and no one I knew could hold their breath that long. I was about to jump in when I saw a rush of bubbles appear near the cliffside. I don't know how, but somehow I knew that was where Mitchie was, and something was very, very wrong.
I peeled my shirt off and jumped in. The water was mostly clear, and I swam straight for where I'd seen the bubbles. I could see a dark figure struggling, push something, and then go limp. I pushed my arms and legs faster and faster, knowing that Mitchie was in trouble. I'd been told previously that bodies float in water. However, I saw Mitchie sink farther and farther, and my heart started speeding up. When I finally got there, I quickly wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her upwards.
What seems like an eternity later, I reach the surface, gasping for breath. I flail around for a second before treading water. I take deep breaths, making up for the time speant under water. It is only then that I realize that beside me, Mitchie is completely still, her eyes closed and her lips a slightly bluish tint. Fear shoots up my spine, and I paddle as quickly as I can towards the shore. I am gasping for breath, but something keeps pushing me along, tugging Mitchie along with me. Normally I could have made it over in a matter of seconds, but dragging another person slows you down, not to mention keeping their head above water, and preventing them from bumping into the rocks. When we make it to shore, I drag her onto the small sandy part and lay her flat on her back. I call her name over and over again, shaking her. I put my palm near her nose, but there's no warm breath. I roughly shove my index and middle fingers onto the side of her neck, just below her jaw bone. I am expecting to feel the pulse beat surely against my fingers.
Instead, there is nothing.
"Mitchie!" I scream over and over again. "Mitchie! MITCHIE! NO!" I slap her face a few times, but she is completely unresponsive. Her lips are bluer now, and I begin panicking even more. How long has she been unconcious? I strain to remember what I learned all those years ago, what to do if a person is unconcious and not breathing. Slowly, I pinch her nostrils shut and sink my mouth onto hers, blowing all the air in my lungs into hers. Her chest rises, and I pull back, placing my hands over where her heart should be.
"One, two, three, four, five," I count out loud. I repeat this for about a minute.
"Come on, Mitchie, breathe!" I cry desperately. Tears form in my eyes. She still hasn't responded. My body shakes with silent sobs as I try one last time to revive her. After the five chest compressions, I sit back on my heels and watch her for a second.
Nothing.
A small sound escapes from my mouth, a cross between a sob and a squeak. The tears that have been building in my eyes spill over, and I don't bother to wipe them away. Soon, I am sobbing freely. I've never cried this much over someone before, not even when we had to put our family dog to sleep. Not when I fell off my swingset and broke my arm. Not when my grandpa had a heart attack and died. But now I was crying uncontrollably, and there was no way I was going to stop anytime soon. I picked up Mitchie's limp form and held her close, sobbing into her hair. I slowly rock back and forth. I just lost my girlfriend, my best friend, the who I could tell anything to. The one who I was always there for, and the one who was always there for me. I lost my everything. I sniffed and sobbed harder, pulling her closer.
Suddenly, a few weak coughs came from Mitchie's mouth.