Falling

My eyes are closed. I don't know why, because it wouldn't make much of a difference. Maybe I'm scared of what I might see (or, more likely, what I wouldn't see). Maybe I'm too cold to keep them open, or I worry about the saltwater hurting my eyes. That's stupid, though, because it can't anymore.

My chest hurt, and so does my heat. Both are throbbing, actually, in time to the beating of a heart that doesn't belong to me anymore.

My hands are going numb. My feet are, too. They had tied the ropes too tight and I can't move anything except my head. The weight of the water makes that hard, anyway. What's the point of struggle when it's already too late? What was the point of them tying me to this board, anyway? They must've known I would sink eventually, weighted down or not.

Something slips past my leg, at least, I think something does. I might be imagining it, after all, I've been falling a long time.

That's what got me into this mess in the first place. Falling. If I hadn't fallen for their trap, I wouldn't have boarded the ship. I wouldn't have been held for ransom, and I certainly wouldn't have been surprised when my parents refused to pay it. They'd assumed I'd be returned safely, that the threat of military involvement would've been enough to get me home. They were too proud, and they were wrong.

I'm still falling but more slowly now. I think I'm reaching the bottom. The weight is almost indescribable, so much that I can't remember what it was like to not feel it. Only an hour ago, there was nothing. Was it an hour, or a day? How long have I been falling?

It's getting colder and I feel compressed, as if every organ in me is huddled together for warmth beneath the surface of my skin. They'll have to get used to being cold. I will, too.

Eventually, I bounce off of something, startled so much by the impact that I open my mouth. No sound comes out, but the cold comes in.

I bounce some more, and I can hear the sand getting kicked up around me. Nothing's touched this spot in thousands of years, I bet. The heavy board lets gravity take over, settling on the ocean floor. I lie with my face up, back cracked over the edges of the board, splayed like a chicken ready for butchering. If I think about it hard enough, I can almost see light behind my eyelids, just the faintest flicker of it.

I never open my eyes.