Submerged

It’s a plea, a cry of help. But no one’s really listening.

They don’t know how badly they’ve hurt her, scarred her, took away her only chance of being herself. They want her to open up, but they’ve called her things before, misunderstood her before. They know all these, so why are they still asking her to open up because they already know and they won’t judge?

Because deep down, she’s afraid of getting hurt again, afraid of being deemed names again.

She’s afraid of being unaccepted and thrown away.

She can’t show her affection to them because she is suppressed with this fear, she is haunted by what they have done to her.

She wants to go away for a while and just go to sleep.

Listen to the waves roll back into its natural state, rain falling, leaves rustling. She likes to listen to the world underwater. It’s a nicer, brighter world, the lights are brighter, and everything is so different. It’s a new world underneath the surface, another world.

Well, there must be.

She feels weightless as she harshly strips herself of her clothes. The cold of the tiles are spreading to her soles, her feet, her toes. It’s slowly becoming numb. It feels like the blood in her veins are slowed down, and they’re no longer racing to parts of her body, but all gathering in just one place, celebrating, happy, because it’s time to let go.

She throws her clothes all over, not really caring. Slowly, she dips her feet into the filled bathtub. The water is cold too, but that’s because the heater has broken down from before. She descends into the waters, closing her eyes and leaning the back of her head against the tub. It’s dark where her eyes are closed, but there are bright starbursts exploding like fireworks.

Here is where she can just sit down and waste away.

Society has folded her legs and bowed her head; she has finally accepted defeat.

But she loves Jessica so. She loves her.

She remembers having to grapple for her phone, her bags, her belongings for fear of them digging into her galleries, folders, everything else, as they salvage in greed of her distress.

She sits down one day and asks God why her. But God gives her no answer.

She sits in the car on the way back from school and her parents are in the front seat. She listens to her father preach to her about religion, telling her about restrictions, hell, hell, hell. She nods mutely, says nothing, looks out the window.

It’s wrong. She is just wrong.

But right now, everything feels right. The water is caressing the soft hairs of her body so nicely, lapping over her water-wrinkled fingers. She has already sent a message to her friends, to them, but the tears flow anyway.

And she hates it because she looks so ty when she cries. Her eyes puff up and her nose gets red, they tell her. She hates that because it’s so pathetic, but she can’t help it now.

“I’m leaving for good soon, you know.”

That’s all they need to know. The pills, the pills. Where are the pills?

Where is the bottle of pills? Her medication? Where is God in all this? Why is there no one there to save her? Why is no one listening to her?

How do they not understand that they are killing her?

She can’t understand her emotions, don’t understand how this will be okay. It’s only okay if she’s right, but she’s not right.

She hears her phone ringing from somewhere outside. They are calling here, they are going to call her names for not picking up or replying, they are going to say how much they care. But this time, she’s not going to believe them.

She’s beyond helping. She’s beyond right and wrong, beyond good and evil. She’s all past that now, like she’s past the point of coming back.

The weightlessness feels so good, like her soul is being lifted. Good, stay that way, she thinks.

There really is no one out there, but she closes her eyes and she sees Jessica. Just Jessica.

Where were they when they were killing her? Where were they when they told her words of poison?

Tired. So tired. The medication is supposed to work. Is one bottle too little to calm her mind down? Or is it already losing its effect?

She thinks about her family. She loves her sister, but she pities her sister’s fate as well—she sinks a little lower—she thinks about her parents. She will disappoint them, they will never accept her—she sinks a little lower, the water is lapping against her chin—she thinks about them. She thinks about how she used to believe them, trust them. She wonders how it has come to this—she sinks a little lower, the water is at her nose—she thinks about everything. She closes her eyes, asks one last time. God, help me—she sinks lower, she is submerged in the water.

It’s like a clearer world from down here. There is a gentle ache in her lungs, her nose burns, throat clenches and her eyes water, strangely, because there is water all around her. Her mind is slowly slipping away, consciousness eagerly following it. Her fingers start to uncurl from the sides of the tub, her feet no longer press against the tub, she is no longer fighting.

Oh, it’s so nice here. After all the pain, it feels like fresh air. It feels like living again after being dead for so long.

Her eyes now open, and she sees frayed, faded memories of meeting them, of going fishing with her family with holed nets, and discarded pieces of bread as bait, of actually attempting to live a full, happy life.

It’s so beautiful…oh, look, there’s Jessica, she must have been tired waiting for her to arrive.

She thanks Jessica for waiting, and Jessica eventually forgives her, reaching out to take her hand. She doesn’t resist, not even when Jessica pulls her into an embrace she knows she deserves.

“You’ve been fighting for way too long. Rest now, darling.”

—ジュリエット