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My eyelids were heavy, a slow blink. Darkness.
I was back on the pool floor again.
Another slow blink.
Floating on my side.
Lungs fucking burning.
I was going to die. Panic overrode the urge to sleep. I jerked and thrashed.
I'm going to die I'm going to die I'm going to die.
Time slowed down. Flashes of white spots across my eyelids, faces from my past that haunted me still.
Knight when he was young, still fresh-faced and happy as he handed me a shell.
Flickers of the faces of my parents, of the only friend I had in Russia, an old language, the words still fresh in my mind as she'd given me her red ribbon. The one I'd given to Knight and then cut into pieces, as if it'd meant nothing to me.
Darkness began to descend, pulling me under.
No!
I was Tatiana Krapivnik and I wasn't going to go out like this.
Tied to some fucking chair and drowning in a hotel pool like a weakling.
Using the last of my energy, I thrashed and kicked, my lungs on fire, my thoughts so muddled, I barely knew what I was doing anymore.
I forced myself to think. To focus on one thing, and one thing only. Getting free.
Using the last of my energy, I jerk, jerk, jerked my wrist until the knot loosened. Black spots danced before my eyes, I managed to yank it from its hold.
My fingers, slow and clumsy, I pulled another knot loose.
Now, my ankles.
I blinked. Was I moving?
My fingers were slow, the rope tight.
Only one ankle left, but I wasn't going to make it.
I pushed from the ground, the pressure in my lungs building, building, burning, burning, panic.
Death.
I couldn't hold on any longer. The pressure in my lungs was too strong.
My instincts took over, my mouth opened without my permission to drag in much needed oxygen.
The darkness filtered in, the edges of my mind too fuzzy to remember, to stay awake, to stay alive.
I was so tired.
A flicker of a shadow, then right before the darkness...
Cold, black eyes.
