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It yanks around Willie’s neck, right below his chin, and his hand releases from my waist, searching for relief. He tries to pull the chain away from his neck, his fingers attempting to wrap around the necklace. I have it so tight, though, that his fingers can’t slide beneath the gold.
My feet go up his back, and I pull with all my might.
I'm losing air. Barely able to hold on. But I do, pulling as hard as I can, worried about the chain snapping from the force, feeling him struggle beneath me, still attempting to pull the necklace away from his neck. He tries, but he can’t get a grip.
I hold on.
A sob rips from my chest, my ribs heaving as he loses his strength. I can feel the life leaving his body, and I keep holding on.
Then he grows heavy. The struggle stops. He starts dropping to the floor of the ocean. I pull on the chain, releasing his body as I swim to the surface, and stop as I’m yanked back.
What?
I pull on the chain again, but it’s stuck on something. I yank as hard as I can, but it's impossible.
Again, my arms pull back as I try to release the chain from whatever it’s stuck on. No air is left in my lungs. I can feel them contracting, screaming for air. My face must be a dark, deep purple. The pressure is building, and the tears won't stop flowing from my burning eyes. I pull once more, but it's no use. I look to the surface, and with a gut-wrenching sob, my fingers loosen around the ends of the necklace. I release my chain, swimming to the surface.
As soon as I breach the top of the water, a guttural scream leaves me.
"Nooooooooooooo!" I sob, kicking my feet to keep me in place. My body is freezing, the night water cold and vicious around me.
I can barely see the sand of the beach in front of me, and I know I should swim to land. I'm tired. Depleted of everything.
But I can't leave my necklace. I look below me and see nothing but water. So much water. It's black. Black as the night.
With a huge breath, I dive back under, my hands pushed out in front of me. Feeling for gold. Feeling for a body. Anything. I swim to the bottom, my fingers brushing the sand. I feel around, but I'm exhausted, and there's nothing. There's no one. Nothing besides rocks and shells. And sand. So much sand.
With a cry, I put my feet on the ground, pushing off and swimming for the surface. Another sob leaves me when I break through the water, my body feeling ripped in half.
I can't leave without it.
I take another deep breath, diving under again. Suddenly, I'm pulled to the side, a vicious rip current swallowing me and pulling in different directions. I kick as hard as I can, attempting to pull myself out of it, but I have no energy left to fight. The water is too strong. The force of the ocean is too aggressive as it whiplashes me from one direction to the next. But I don't stop, kicking, my arms waving with all my might, my exhausted limbs screaming in pain.
The waves keep swirling. My legs give out, finally having enough, and I swirl around, almost like a tornado, pushed to the bottom of the ocean. I can't fight it, it's too much. It's too strong.
My body bows, my feet pointed, and I float to the bottom, out of my fight. Out of my energy. Darkness pulls me down, and I feel like I'm losing life. I can feel it draining out of me with every second that passes.
Is this it? Is this the end?
I don't want this to be the end. I don't want to die.
Roman, please don't let me die. This isn't the end. It can't be.
My butt hits the sand, and I'm pushed from side to side as the rip current keeps fighting against me. My eyes start to close, my lungs pummeling against my chest, begging for air. I'm about to open my mouth, gasp in water, when the wave pushes against me, shoving me off the ground and up toward the surface.
My arms windmill, my legs automatically kicking. My eyes open, and I look around me, expecting hands. Expecting anything, really, but there's no one. Nothing. Just darkness and water. Pushing me toward the surface.
I break through the water, gasping in mouthfuls of air. I cough, wiping my eyes with my fingers as my legs kick to keep me afloat.
"Hey! Hey, are you okay? Help is coming!" A man shouts from the shore.
I wave at him, wanting to ask him for help, but not having the energy. My hands cup the water in front of me, and I float on my side, hoping the riptide doesn't come back and sweep me out into the ocean. I'm able to make it close enough that the guy and one other person rush into the water, grabbing me around the biceps and pulling me to shore.
"What are you doing out there? Do you have a death wish? You're lucky you're alive!" The older man shouts.
The moment my feet hit the ground, I collapse, my knees and palms slamming against the sand. I curl my fingers beneath it, clutching it to me.
It was Roman. He helped me.
