The Invasion

21 | Deja vu

When I was five, I drowned. For real.

Mom and I had gone to Maldives for a vacation with Gramps, Maddie, and her family. We stayed at a resort on an island. My memory as a child may be a little fuzzy, but I've seen enough pictures to bring them back. During those days, the waters were much cleaner, with brighter tones of blue and green, and the sight of the ocean touching the horizon was wondrous and magical to steal anybody's breath away.

It was summer, I recall. I was playing in the water while wearing a floating tube—a bright yellow one with ducks. I had been splashing the water and when Mom looked away for a second, an enormous wave crashed into us. The backwash separated us and dragged me farther into the sea. Something ripped a hole in my floating tube and I sank like a broken ship, water devouring me whole. A fire started within me, consuming my lungs like hot lava, burning until I could feel no more.

I couldn't breathe.

At some point, my strength weakened, and my struggle gradually stopped. The last bit of my air left my lungs and water rushed up my nose. My weight pulled me to the ocean's bed as the sky above me darkened, my skin tingling faintly. My eyes were wide open, frightened and horrified at my last living moment, until moments later, I realized that something felt amiss.

I'm not...dying?

It was faint, but there was a change in the flow of water. Something touched my back, pushing me back to the surface—like a pair of hands. My body glided through the water effortlessly, and my hands automatically reached for the sun above me.

I risked a quick glance behind me and was stunned to meet with a set of luminescent blue eyes. There was a light brush of fingers across my cheek. Fleeting, but warm. A smile graced the lips of this odd man-looking creature.

A gentle voice entered my mind.

Do not be afraid, dear child.

I blinked at him, and then he was gone. Poof. Vanished like magic.

That was strange.

I may not have known him at all and should be afraid of him, but I wasn't.

The moment I broke the surface, my devastated family swept with relief to discover me alive. I began coughing up saltwater, gasping for air, and crying for Mom. After they brought me back to the resort, I learned I had gone underwater for nearly ten minutes and it was a miracle I was still breathing when they found me.

The entire incident was concluded as a bizarre miracle. To this day, I'm not sure if everything was a mere dream. And if it wasn't, it could be my first encounter with a merfolk.

I've never told Mom about this. My near-death incident was enough to give her a major heart attack. I let her believe that my merfolk ability had somehow emerged and saved me. Although she was glad it happened, I knew it scared her too. She was afraid that the people from the seas would take me away and never see her again.

Now, that fear of hers remains.

Ever since that incident, she has forbidden me from swimming. But then again, she doesn't have to worry because I've a love-hate relationship with water. As much as I love the sound of waves crashing against the shores and how much it's calling out to me, I fear swimming in it. Afraid that I'm going to sink into the darkness once more.

And right now, I'm drowning for the second time in my life.

My hands flail out wildly, kicking my legs in sheer terror. I can never get used to the way the water rushes up my nose, hits my throat and cuts off my air supply. My heart pounds so hard against my ribcage, as if it's going to break free from my chest. The pressure dips and the muffled sounds in my ears pop. The deeper I sink, the louder the crackles get.