The water is colder than I expected.  

I always thought it would feel like sweet relief, like slipping into a dream where the pain doesn’t follow. But it doesn’t. The chill bites at my skin, sharp and unrelenting, as I sink deeper.  

My hand presses against my stomach, where the wound burns like a brand. The blood seeps through my fingers, swirling in the water like ink spilled on parchment. It’s strange how something so violent can look so beautiful.  

I don’t fight it.  

Above me, the villa’s lights shimmer through the water I admired just hours ago, now warped into grotesque shapes. The infinity pool really does look infinite from this angle, the edge disappearing into nothingness.  

A shadow moves at the periphery.  

Doesn’t matter.  

The garden beyond the glass is still visible those manicured hedges, and the Malibu palm trees 

My lungs scream for air, but I don’t give it to them.  

Let it be quick.

Let it