I wake up caged in. The air is stuffy and stale. Everything is quiet, the echoes of my heavy breathing the only constant. 

The wood boards caging me in are old, rotten, and soggy to the touch as I let my fingernails scrape down the sides in a fight to push myself up and out. The amount of dirt on top of it makes it impossible to escape. 

My cries for help go silent as it gets harder to breathe. Body shivering in fear my fingers tremble as I slam my fists against the wood caging me in. Dirt falling into my face in the process. As time goes by - what feels like forever - blood starts caking around the roots of my fingernails, worn down from wear. 

Time flies by and still nothing happens. Every breath is agony. 

With nothing left to do but admit defeat, my eyes start trailing the messy woodwork of the casket. Like it was done in a rush. 

Do they think I died? The thought of being stuck down here until that truly becomes a reality makes the panic come back in full force. I start kicking and screaming, warm tears falling down my cheeks. 

Suddenly there’s a shush next to me. It’s a small voice. It sounds familiar and like music to my ears. “Don’t panic, it’s all going to be okay.” 

I let my head fall to my side. The boy is next to me, his golden brown eyes looking at me, at ease. “Don’t panic,” He says as he takes my hand in his. “Just let it happen.” 

Before I can ask him what‘s about to happen, dirtied water starts seeping into the casket. All the cracks filling with the murky brown liquid. The casket fills up quickly. Encapsulating everything, not leaving one bit empty, not until I’m fully under. 

My lungs burn as I hold my breath to the best of my abilities. I was told my grandmother drowned before I was born. I remember asking my mother how it feels to die like that. If it hurts. 

She told me that it didn’t, not for long at least. In the start, your lungs will be screaming. The need for air is soo immense your body sets into a panic, trashing around. But then, when you let the water in, when it fills your lungs, it dulls the pain. My mother compared it to a lullaby. The water soothing you to a deep sleep. 

I was naive to believe my mother. The water is an unspeakable force, eating at my insides as the water forces itself inside, strangling any ounce of air in my lungs. I scream, but the water simply swallows it. 

I wake up drenched in sweat. My hands fall up to my chest as I start coughing and hacking for breath. Throat sore. I quickly notice that I’m not deep in water. Instead, I’m in my bedroom from the looks of it. 

My nightlamp is turned on, casting soft shadows around the room and the few pieces of furniture I own. 

There’s a cup of water on my nightstand. I reach out with a trembling hand to get it. The water dulls my aching throat, but only slightly. As I go to place it back on the nightstand I end up accidentally tipping it over. The cup clangs to the floor but doesn’t break, instead, it rolls along the floor, ending up near my window. 

I hear hurried steps come closer to my bedroom door. The shadows under the doorframe stop and my door clicks open.

My mother comes hurrying into my room, looking surprised but relieved. The wrinkles between her eyebrows disappearing. She waddles over, the back of her hand landing softly on my forehead before removing the matted hair there. She places a kiss on my head before her hands come down to cradle my cheeks. They’re warm. 

“You had me so worried,” I hear my mother whisper next to me, voice laced with a tremble. She lets out a sigh filled with exhaustion. “Your father came home with you all soaked and bloody. He said you fell and hit your head pretty hard. I don’t believe that bastard one bit.” She bites her lip, stopping herself from cursing him out further from the looks of it. “You had a bad fever following that. I was so afraid of losing you, sweetheart.” 

“How long?” I ask, voice hoarse.

“You’ve been out for a couple of days now,” Her lips turn into a thin line. “I had to call the doctor because you were running a fever. Your father didn’t like that - said it was a waste of money - but I needed to make sure you were going to be fine.” 

“I’m fine now,” I push myself up, but my mother is faster and manages to push me down again. 

“You’re not going anywhere, you need to rest. I almost lost you,” Her voice becomes stern, placing her hand on my chest so I can’t try and sit up again. “I’m so thankful you didn’t end up like Anne’s kid.” 

Everything comes back to me in quick flashes. The boy by the harbor, the cold water as I jumped in to get him out, following the scolding and afterward the confrontation with my father. 

“What do you mean?” My throat closes up and it hurts to swallow. I lick my cracked lips as I wait for my mother to form the words that are longing to come off her tongue. She’s trying to lessen the blow and that’s how I know something bad is coming. 

“Anne’s kid drowned,” She speaks the words as if they physically hurt her. “The day after your father dragged you in. They say the poor boy fell in and got caught up in a current.” 

“He drowned,” I echo. 

It all feels like a bad dream. One after the other. And with each time I startle awake, the nightmare only gets worse.

“Did you know him well?” My mother asks, spotting my frown from miles away. 

“Only a little bit,” I lie. 

I’ve seen him around. It’s hard not to notice him wherever he goes. He never really blended in like everyone else. Not only because of his skin color but by the beauty of his face and his quiet naivety. I guess that’s what got him killed in the end. Maybe he really did have a death wish. 

My mother kisses my forehead once more before she stands up, brushing off the dust on my floor from her dress. “Get some rest dear, I will bring some food for you later.” She picks up the cup and leaves my room, the door clicking shut. 

My head falls back onto my pillow. I look up at the ceiling, my head sore and my vision still swimming a bit. Too scared to fall asleep - afraid of another cruel nightmare to come - I try to fight the exhaustion. But my eyelids can barely hold themselves open any longer. Exhaustion overpowers everything and before I know it, I’m dead to the world once again.