Floating

• Sharane Gowritharan, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2021

The water rushed underneath me as I sit down at the edge of the docks. My feet swing back forth on the edge of the platform as a male figure approaches me and sits.

He reaches over and takes it in one of his. His hands squeezing mine as they sit side by side, looking at the water. Leaning over, I rest my head on his shoulder as I breathe a deep sigh of relief. Breathing in and out, I slam my eyes shut, those last few seconds replaying in my head like a broken cassette tape.

In ten minutes, three things had happened, and one person was dead. Me throwing open the door. Me seething with anger as I reached out with two open hands and pushed Emily. The sight of her eyes widening as everything slowed down. Her hair tangling around her face as she went flying backwards. Her swollen, pregnant body tumbling down the stairs. Her limp, pale body lying there, at the bottom of the stairs, lifeless. And so, it wasn’t one life that I had killed. But two.

Then came the carnage. The pool of blood pouring out of the deep gash on the side of her head. The crimson liquid staining my white converse an unhealthy pink. Cracking sounds followed by heaving breaths as she struggled to breathe. The strange angle that her bones were jutting out in strange places. It wasn’t normal. At all.

Keys in the door. Creaking as the door opened, revealing a smiling face that slowly turned into horror in front of me. The rushed movements as he ran over and grabbed my hand in his, panic seeping through his veins. The echoing in my brain as he said my name and called me back to a reality that I did not know. I was floating in a cloudless sky, where silence was the only sound.

Moisture in my shoes as I walked towards the edge of the docks, getting out of the car. The car. Ivan’s car. I was still floating. Little pricks as the rough edges of the wooden boards pierced my skin. I didn’t remember taking my shoes off. I was still floating. The same pricking in my hands as I sat down. The warmth radiating from the person now sitting next to me. I was still floating. The muted sounds of his reassuring words. The high pitched ringing echoing in my head. I was still floating. The weak limbs that reached out. Reached out and pushed him into the currents of the sea. I was still floating.