Falling With Grace

My toes slid against the muddy rocks, jamming them between stones.

I tumbled face-first into the river.

Water soaked my thin clothes and sloshed up my nose. My sinuses burned, and my dislocated shoulder ignited a deep-seated torment.

Strong arms wrapped around me, pulling my face free from the water.

“I’ve got you.”

I gasped, inhaling oxygen in short bursts as I kicked and bucked with all my might.

My torso slipped free from his grasp as though I were coated in grease, and my ass plunged into the turbulent waters below, submerging my face again.

Compressed air turned my cheeks into miniature balloons as I held my breath and kicked away from him. Keeping my head below water, I used the river to escape as far as I could, my broken rib scorching my chest.

I kicked to the surface, and Miguel was there, his hand wrapping around my left ankle.

Screaming, the water washed into my mouth, smothering my cries as I dipped below the surface, kicking at him with all my might.

Water filled my ears, my adrenaline piquing, dulling the overloading pain across my battered body.

“I’m trying to help you.” His muffled words made it through the turbulent underwater chaos.

I didn’t want his help.

I’d rather drown than go back there.

I’d rather my body rot in the river than let him touch me again.

The top of my foot smashed between his legs with a solid kick. He doubled over with a grunt, his hand releasing my foot.

The current took me down the center of the cardinal river, tainted with their sins, my mouth below the waterline as I treaded backward.

Miguel remained bent over, his men at his side, pointing their weapons at me.

Our gazes collided, and the concerned worry that had wrinkled his forehead disappeared. Only the taut muscles in his jaw and the downward pull of his brows remained.

I bobbed beneath the water as he watched me, my head disappearing for brief moments at a time.

The vehicle headlights darkened in the distance. The full moon brushed dim light across the surface of the river and treetops, the roaring engines gone with nothing but the trickling of water hitting the banks.

My thigh muscles tightened the more I kicked to stay afloat, my limp arm dangling behind me, and my shoulder burned with Hell’s fire. I used my left arm to steer my direction towards the bank on the opposite side I’d jumped into. Yet, my exhausted body remained in the center of the long, winding river, with large boulders brushing against my feet.

A chill settled in my bones, and the fingers on my right hand tingled. The crown of my head throbbed. The adrenaline in my blood waning, and the injuries I’d fought through rose to the surface with excruciating vigor.

Myface dipped below the surface as my left knee stiffened, sending electrical jolts into my hip bone. Spots clouded my vision as I brought my mouth above the water and gulped in air.

This wasn’t how I was supposed to die.

Water vibrated between my fingertips as I paddled, drawing from what little energy I had until I made leeway towards the riverbank.

‘You swim with the current, not against it. Let it do the work for you.’

My father had taken me to a survivalist camp one summer, which taught us everything we needed to know to increase the odds of survival. Including river navigation.

Smooth river stone brushed against my feet, along with small pebbles and sand. I pushed against them, and my head bounded above the surface.

Ground.