By Grace O’Connor
She pounds her fists against the glass desperately,
As the clarity in front of her becomes increasingly distorted.
She forces herself to scream, but no one can hear her,
The water starts to fill up her lungs and drown out her voice.
The water eliminates all sound around her,
As the vibration of her pounding fists comes back to slice her.
The water molds her in place like glue,
Pushing her down, refusing to catch her drowning body.
Her mind races to find a solution.
The darkness bleeds through the edges of her eyes,
Blinding her slowly, stopping time.
She prays silently for peace,
As she accepts her fate.
The glass cracks slightly and shatters all at once,
She is pushed to the ground, guided by the water,
Covered in prickly, pale skin.
Her body fills with instantaneous relief and wrath.
She resents herself and her ability to cause this perpetual fear.
As she slowly lifts her shaky body up from the ground,
She is both numb and vulnerable.
She looks at the glass she shattered and feels a pit in her stomach.
She knows she will have to use her strength once again to break glass,
To make her fists bleed in order to let herself take a full breath.
But the water is not her enemy,
It has always been herself.