My arms and legs slide through the fabric so quickly that I barely have time to react. The water is ice cold. I gasp as my feet and calves soak through the unwavering tides. Whatever is pulling me down, the grip is much stronger water. The hold is more physical in touch. I claw at the last of the fabrics before the tips of my fingers cannot hold on any longer.
Fading above my head is the last memories of my old bedroom. The world becomes darker and darker. Moments pass before I find myself lost beneath the unrelenting sea. In a panic, I pull myself up as fast as I can until I start to the finally see of the sun casting a bright beam on top of the water.
A loud shrill pierces through my ears. I squeeze my ears shut, but this only makes it worse because I am running out of time. I need
