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At the still point of the turning world... by becsatherton

She felt like she was drowning. All around her there was water. Freezing. Churning. Flowing. Pulling her and dragging her in multiple directions. She tried to fight against it. Tried hard to kick out with her legs, pull the surface towards her with her arms. But no matter how hard she tried she didn't move, not in the direction that she wanted. It was like the water was a womb and she was trapped inside, a helpless foetus, attached.

As the oxygen in her lungs ran out, and her chest tightened so that she felt like her torso was close to bursting, her mind relaxed. Death was inevitable, what was the use in fighting. Surely it was better to just submit, let go. What was going to happen was going to happen. She was in no position to affect it.

Memories crowded in. Happy ones. And sad ones. Her childhood stretched before her like a map, a map of where it all went wrong. She tried to find the point, the event that changed everything. Was it when her mother died, or when her father finally went away? She stared at the images and tried to focus. But her vision blurred and she was instead transported back to the present, an orphan adrift in the ocean, alone and friendless.

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