"Come with me." "I can't." "I'll show you my world." "I wish I could." "You can swim with me, never having to leave the cool and calming currents." "I can't breathe down there." "Maybe...maybe I can show you how."
I could cry underwater and no one would know. That's why I took up swimming, really. All my cries and sobs and calls for help would just come out as tiny pockets of air that could easily fade away once they burst. They didn't have to mean anything, and no one would ever know how much I wanted to weight myself down and let the water drown me.
Water had a voice. It was something every canal rat knew, anyone who had slept beneath a bridge or weathered a winter storm in an over-turned boat -- water could speak with the voice of a lover, a long-lost brother, even a god." - Leigh Bardugo in Six of Crows
writing prompt: "It's all part of their training - nothing to worry about" he smiled as he turned to face her. "I promise you, anyone worth saving will not come to harm.They will make sure of that themselves" and with that, he turned off the monitor. JS