[ IP ] Sinking

It ’ s funny how a new perspective on things can come at the most unexpected moments. From down here, the boat looked like some strange insect, poised over me, ready to pounce on the small morsel that floated below it. I could still feel the horrible intrusion into the back of my head. For the sake of the captain up above, I hoped that bit of boat rudder wasn ’ t important for the steering, but I had the feeling it might be. A sinking suspicion, one might say. My head didn ’ t hurt at least. Not yet. I got the feeling that a bit of pain in my head would be the least of the worries I would face in the immediate future. I was, after all, about to have my acquaintance made with the watery depths themselves. Not particularly how I had envisaged this afternoon going. That said, taking a boat trip out with a homicidal maniac usually doesn ’ t end with both parties enjoying canapés on the shore after a grand day out on the water. 
 
 Some fish flitted around me curiously. I jiggled about a bit to send them on their way. No nibbling on me quite yet, thank you very much. It had dawned on me that I was approaching my own rapid approach to the seabed in a remarkably matter of fact way. I would have assumed drowning would encompass a lot more thrashing and struggling. I chalked the reason up to the somewhat severe cranial trauma I had just endured. I could feel the splitting headache coming now. Over above the water I watched my killer, or soon-to-be killer at least, peering into the depths, watching me slowly sink deeper. The bastard. I probably should never have let him lure me onto the boat in the first place, but my inner miser had got the better of me. I wanted to see the caves, and I would be damned if I was going to fork out as much as the other boat captains were charging. If only they had been a little more emphatic with their implicit ‘ intact skull or your money back ’ policy, that my erstwhile pilot up above seemed not to provide. It could have been a major selling point. Somehow, looking back on it, thirty euros and a glass of fairly nasty liquor did not seem worth a permanent relocation to the bottom of the Mediterranean. Still, caveat emptor I suppose. 
 
 I had to say I was dealing remarkably well with the whole drowning business. It was almost serene, watching the red cloud that I assumed was my blood begin to make its way up to the surface. Some sharks would probably get wind of that fairly soon. I hoped to not be conscious by the time they arrived. As much as I was dealing with the drowning aspect of the situation, a shark attack on top of it could be just a bit beyond the pale. It ’ s at times like this I like to sit down and breathe to myself until I get things back under control. However, in current circumstances, that may have not been the best idea. Instead I contented myself with blinking a couple of times. It wasn ’ t that good a substitute. To be honest it probably made things worse, now that I was alerted to the fact that my eyes stung something wicked. 
 
 A strange combination of oxygen deprivation, blood loss, concussion and other brain damage led to me finding myself in a fairly detached mood. Nothing really mattered I supposed. Sure it would have been nice to come back after the gap year and head to university just like everyone else, but it didn ’ t really make any odds now. Not a lot I could do about it at any rate. I suppose that seeing Meg again would have been good, just once, to tell her I was sorry. Of all the times to get my priorities straightened out, now was the time I had chosen it seemed. A sentimental rehash while on a one-way trip to Davy Jones locker. 
 
 Above me the boat began to move away. It would have been nice, I supposed, to have been able to warn someone about the captain ’ s tendencies to do away with passengers, after relieving them of all of their worldly possessions. Still, not like I didn ’ t go down without a fight. After a brief struggle I had been somewhat abruptly introduced to the boat ’ s steering mechanism as it lodged itself in my cortex. Just bad luck really. At least I took a bit of the boat down with me. 
 
 It came to my attention that I really needed to breathe. There was a tremendous pressure on my lungs. Luckily the effects of hypoxia were so far set in that I didn ’ t particularly care about anything any more. This whole series of events had been most educational at least. This looked to be it for me though. Strangely enough the prospect of dying didn ’ t particularly bother me. Still had trouble getting my head around that. We spend our whole lives terrified of dying, and here I was finding it fairly uneventful. Drowning had never really appealed to me, but it seemed now that severe brain trauma before hand made it fairly bearable. 
 
 I finally gave in to what I would describe, if I felt the need to be dramatic, as a horrific burning in my lungs, clawing away at my insides. But I don ’ t need to be dramatic. To be honest I wasn ’ t really feeling it. I was feeling the experience of feeling it. It ’ s hard to explain, and the circumstances one would have to put oneself in to relive the experience are not ones that generally appeal, so my explanation is the best you ’ ve got. At any rate, I opened my mouth, and water came gushing in. That was to be expected really. Black spots began popping on my vision as the boat began to fade away above me. My lungs filled up with water. This was goodbye I supposed. I never even got to see those bloody caves.
