My eyes open.

The humidifier in my bedroom hums. 

The cool air around my bed scolds at me; I turn on my side and stare into the empty doorway.

Did I shut the door last night?

More importantly, did I lock it?

 

 

The steam of the shower baptizes me into reality.

My cold, grey eyes stare back at me through the mirror.  I begin shaving.  The cold steel glides across my skin, cutting, one by one…

The air outside is warm.  The rain had come and gone last night, yes, I remember now. 

The liquor of the night before made it unclear sometimes.  I always forgot what happened.  I was always trying to forget. 

 

I insert my key into the lock, turn left, then right again.  My key exits.  I push against the door to make sure. My curtain moves, ever so slightly…

 

I arrive at work.  There is a pebble inside my floor mat, I notice upon leaving.  I remove it, carefully, and set it on the ground.  I shut the door, and lock her.

I walk inside.  The smell of chlorine, bleach, and sweat run through my nostrils and down my throat.  It burns, and tickles the depth of my chest.

They are all at play, making noise.  Everyone, of all ages.  The noise.  It irked me so, every day, to no end.  Maybe today it will happen.  We will see, I think to myself. Pray to myself…

I am older, this is true.  My features are dark, the bags underneath my eyes and wrinkles from the stress of youth, and my eyes cold, and grey.

I sit upon my perch, my watch, and wait.

My eyes scan, back and forth, across the waters.  Left to right, slowly now.

Horseplay here and there, it will not do.

But a cracked skull on the concrete, yes, this will do.  Their brains draining inside the water, the mist and warmth flowing ever so slowly beyond.  This will do.  I lower my whistle from my mouth.  When did I raise it?

 

I watch, for hours.  Nothing happens.  Nothing usually happens.  The Others make sure of that.

Just as I begin to think of my nightly routine, I see towards the left of the pool.  A struggle? I begin to see the white bubbles of chaotic movement.

My lips curl, ever so slightly, at an upward angle.

I can see it now.  The girls getting out of the water and screaming for help.  My body rises.  Muscle memory takes over, and before I can react, my body does it for me.  I am inside the water, darting towards her.

Somewhere between the age of 10, or 11, the small frail body is wriggling.  Her eyes are wide, her arms are flailing, but with no finesse.  No, this will not do.  Who let her inside here?

I grab her, and look into her eyes.  I can she has taken in water.  Her mouth was wide open during screaming.  Yes, the water has begun to film her lungs.  Tsk, tsk. 

I grab her small neck.  I can feel her begin to struggle.  It is very small.  Perfect for my hand.  She is making so much of a fuss, so many waves and bubbles.  No one can see this.

Her eyes look directly into mine.  I watch, as they dart up toward the surface, back at me.  The world is a cruel place. 

I make way towards the surface, it seems I was too late...