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It was a goal that felt out of reach, but a challenge I was willing to undertake.
Starting with taking a deep breath and confronting this manufactured fear by slipping into the water.
At first, it was so cold that I had to bite my lip to keep from squealing aloud. During the day, under the blazing heat of the sun, the water likely maintained a perfect, balmy temperature. Now though, under the palliative light of the moon, it was much cooler.
Damn near unbearable, but the acclimation happened quickly enough.
I was no stranger to discomfort, so I stayed right where I was, treading water until the liquid lapping against my skin no longer felt in contrast.
I wasn’t afraid, or nervous, or anxious.
We were in harmony.
So I closed my eyes, streaking through the water to swim like I hadn’t in a long time.
Too long.
My limbs took on a life of their own as I plunged deeper, holding my breath to get under the water, so clear and perfectly blue green with the white sand underneath reflecting the moon I even had a bit of visibility.
Underneath the water, I was deprived of my senses of smell and sound. I had to rely on only what I could see in front of me, only the sensation of the water against my skin, the sand under my feet in the shallow parts. Nothing could touch me out here - nothing couldhurtme. Not at this depth, not so close to the beach.
And if somethingcreptits way from the darker depths, it wouldn’t be anything I couldn’t handle.
I was in control here.
I was in charge.
I had the power.
It was therapeutic.
No sooner than that thought crossed my mind, something shifted.
There was a discordant sound, too muffled by the water against my eardrums for me to tell exactly what it was—and too far outside my line of sight. An uneasy feeling clung to the pit of my stomach, making it churn as I used the last bit of air I had to see what was coming behind me while I still had camouflage of the water before I had to break the surface.
It was already too late.
My mouth opened in a scream as I was gripped around the waist, instantly, inadvertently welcoming water into my airways—an amateur mistake I should have known better than to make, but the ocean had lulled me into a false sense of security.
I tried to dig in, but the arm secured in a tight grasp wouldn’t budge. I was dragged up to the surface, choking, coughing, struggling, still trying to fight to get away.
With no luck.
After what seemed like forever, I was unceremoniously dropped, and I could feel the soft grit of warm sand underneath me. I took a second to collect myself, coughing up the water before I opened my eyes, staring up at the blue-black gradient of the sky, occasionally dotted by the bright luminescence of a star.
It was beautiful.
And even though I definitely had more pressing matters at hand, I let the visual calm me as I caught my breath. Whoever had dragged me from the water had put a bit of distance between us now, which could work to my advantage. As soon as I could, if I could, I was taking off running. It benefited me to appear calm for now.
Resigned.
This survival tactic had been trained into me.
“If you’re thinking about running… don’t,” a male voice sounded from just outside my peripheral.
A familiar one.
I pulled my gaze from the sky to follow sound of the voice, landing on him, partially shrouded in darkness. He was fruitlessly trying to wring the water from his clothes.
