He stands over me, arms crossed, an unforgiving giant shadow. I have to swim or he'll never take me back home. I've played so many times in this lake. But it's huge, and I've never had to swim across it without breaks, and definitely not ten times.
I dive under, kicking and pulling the water, until I hit the top again and suck in air. I do it again. And again. Every time I think I'm going to reach the other side, I've barely made any progress. I keep pushing until I've made it to the other side. I want to stop and rest on the flaky rock face on this side of the lake, but I'm afraid I'll cramp up if I stop. I turn over and make it all the way back to him. This time I do rest at his feet, panting for air.
“I…can't…” I beg as I roll along the smooth pebble.
“One,” is all he says.
“Puh-puh-lease.”
“One.”
He nudges me with his foot, so that I crawl back out until the water is up to my chin. I swim again.
Two.
Three.
Four.
When I reach him for the fifth time, each limb feels like it weighs a hundred pounds. I cough up dirty water that I inhaled along the swim. I don't have any more in me. But he just says “six,” over and over until I understand that this is not a choice.
When I get to the opposite side of the lake, I rest myself against the rock face, Everything hurts, my lungs burn, my head spins. Everything is dark except for the dot of light on the other side: my father holding a flashlight like a beacon. I take a deep breath and stroke against the water, towards his light.
I wish he was dead, I think to myself as my body begs for me to stop. And then suddenly, as if a giant grabbed my leg and squeezed as hard as he could, it locks up. Pain worse that what I remember from my accident shoots along the back of my leg. I cry out and swallow a mouth full of water. The pain sets alarms throughout my body, but I can't move. I flail my arms as I sink underneath, the moon shrinking. I try to get to the top but can only do it for a second between the pulsing behind my leg. I swallow more water. It rushes up my nose and down my throat. I sink lower and lower. I hold my breath, wondering what mom will do when she sees my dead body. She was right.
The moon is gray down here. I watch through the waves of the water. It's quiet even though I am screaming. Noises don't come out, just bubbles. Empty words full of air. My words were always my weakness.
Then there's the sound of something strong boring through the water, like those big drums. An arm wraps around me and I shoot up to the surface like a rocket. I gasp for air, but it's not enough. Every time I try to breathe, I just wheeze and choke.
“Relax,” dad says as he drags me the second half of the way back to shore. “You're gonna be fine.”
He lets me go and I find myself on my knees, vomiting water and silt. Finally, I can breathe again. It's over. He's made his point. I'm more confused than ever. If he wanted to kill me, he would have let me drown.
I roll onto my back, panting, shivering, wearing nothing but my white briefs.
“I wanna go h-h-h-home,” I sob.
“You're gonna be fine, kiddo,” dad says, brushing my hair out of my face as I sob.
“See? You're tough. You've got it in you. Your mom wants you to think you don't. But you are powerful.”
His words don't sink in, but fall on top of me like raindrops. I feel them, I hear them, I understand their purpose, but they glide off of the surface. I just can't make sense of this all right now.
“Alright, get up,” he says, pulling me to my feet. I stagger up, still lightheaded from almost drowning. I scan the ground for my clothes.
“This way,” he points to the water. “Seven.”
I look at him in disbelief. I didn't hear him right. There's no way.
“Seven,” he repeats.
He's leading me, through the forest, unresponsive to my pleading and questions. I trip and wince in pain every time I step on a small twig or rock, until finally, he swoops me off the ground and carries me. Cradles me. The only other time he carried me that way was when he chased me through this very forest the night he almost let me go.
“Puh—puh—lease. Just tell me you aren't going to hurt me,” I plead through panicked breaths.
He shushes me harshly.
I cling to him, knowing any trip with him could be my last, and yet he's the one holding me protectively in his arms so that gripping him is instinctual.
Finally we stop. When he lowers me, my feet rest on damp pebbly soil. I dig my toes into the cool mud searching for clues.
He pulls off the blindfold. In front of me is a lake or a massive pond. The shallow bay is just inches from my feet gently beckoning me to dip my toes as it lilts forward and back. All around it's surrounded by forest. I haven't been outside during daylight hours in months. I haven't felt the sun directly on my skin since the day he took me.
I turn to face him, unsure of how to receive this gesture. There has to be a catch, there always is.
“Why are we here?” I ask, not expecting an answer as usual. But he pulls something out of his pocket. A small notepad and pen.
For your mind.