Page 2 of Backstroke

More and more waves crash over me as I struggle to breathe. I’m spinning along with the water, around and around.

Quickly, I become disoriented. Which way is up? When will the waves calm? Surely, I’m close to the shore by now.

Fear envelops me in its darkest cave as the water presses me to the ocean floor. I’m thrust into an oyster-clad rock formation, slicing my skin in all directions. Pain shoots through the wounds as the salt slams into my open skin. My face is thrust hard against a boulder, rendering me motionless for a moment. My hair tangles with sand and shells, wrapping around my face, as my body begins to tire from the constant assault. How much longer can I continue this fight? I’m the weaker opponent in this battle. The ocean’s power surges around me. My lungs burn like acid from the lack of oxygen, and I can feel my body’s energy depleting by the second. My vision, already blurry from the salt and silt, begins to darken as the pain radiates through my skull. This is it. I was just on the top of the world and now I’m beneath it.

My feet graze the ocean floor, I think. Or am I hallucinating? I press my feet firmly to the ground and push myself up from the water with all of my remaining strength. My body lands on a shallow bank.

I try to gasp for air but my lungs are filled with water. My stomach purges the remnants of the sea. It rolls like waves until the salt water is out of my system, making me collapse on the ground.

“Fallon!” I hear my mother yell, but I’m too tired to move. She sounds far away, but I don’t have the energy to raise my head. Small waves continue to wash over me, but I’m no longer under their control. My eyes close as the searing pain in my head becomes unbearable.

I’m tired.

I’m so tired.

Sleep.

I need sleep.

My stomach heaves again before I fade away into darkness.

Everything can change in a moment. That’s all it takes–a single moment.

One

Remington

“Swimmers, take your marks,”the announcer’s voice booms from the speakers as pure adrenaline courses through my body. The noise from the crowd fades into the distance as I wait for the horn. My mind’s sole focus is on the lane ahead. My breaths are slow and sure, readying myself for the fight to come. I visualize each stroke, streamline and kick. My mind is a metronome— steady and unwavering.

Body.

Mind.

Water.

The horn sounds and I surge forward, my body diving seamlessly through the water’s surface. It greets me like a lost friend, cool and familiar, propelling me onward as my hands slice through. Each stroke is powerful and precise, driving me closer to the finish line. The world above dims, replaced by the rhythmic splash of my movements and the rush of water past my ears.

I hit the returning wall, then shove off hard as I rush to complete the race. The lane markers blur as my opponents fall further behind. The finish looms ahead, etched in chlorinated blue.

With tension in my muscles and a burn in my lungs, I push through. Every kick, every pull, brings me closer to victory. The taste of triumph is almost tangible, a sweet promise just within reach.I need it. I crave it.The water is my ally, my adversary and my path to glory.

Perseverance surges through me. I shove harder, my body moving with a renewed sense of purpose. The finish line is just ahead and I know I can reach it.I willreach it.The water carries me forward and with one final, powerful stroke, my fingertips graze the wall as relief floods my body. With a racing heart, I quickly glance over at my competitors left in my wake.

I see my fiercest contender, Liam’s face, his expression a mix of exhaustion and disbelief. He pulls off his goggles, eyes wide as realization sets in that he’s been beaten. For a moment, our eyes meet and I can see the frustration and respect in his gaze. It’s a silent acknowledgment of the battle we’ve just fought and the victory I’ve claimed. The Razorbacks from Easton College are our largest rivals.

I remember our last encounter at the regional finals. Liam had edged me out by a fraction of a second, his triumphant grin seared into my memory. The sting of that loss had fueled mytraining, pushing me to my limits. Every early morning practice, every grueling workout had been for this moment. Now, seeing the disbelief on his face, I know it was all worth it.

I drop into the water one last time before rising from the pool. The water cleanses my dark past, washing away the shadows. After all, that’s the reason I swim. It’s not just a race; it’s a ritual. In the water, my mind is focused on one thing alone.Water. It purifies the darkness I wish to forget.

Memories of my past flood back. The nights spent in turmoil, the mistakes that haunted me, the person that hurt me. Swimming became my escape, my sanctuary. Each lap in the pool was a step away from evil, a chance to start anew. The water embraced me, offering solace and a sense of control I couldn’t find elsewhere. It was in the pool that I found my strength, my purpose.

My father’s voice echoes in my mind, demanding perfection, withholding affection unless I met his impossible standards. Every failure, every shortcoming was met with cold neglect. Swimming has been my rebellion, my way of proving I was more than his expectations. It was my way of finding worth in myself.

“Swimming isn’t the career for a politician’s son. Fuck, it’s not even a career. You think you’ll make it to the Olympics?” he chuckles darkly, his tone menacing. “As soon as that degree is placed in your hands, you’ll be working at Frampton Law. End of discussion.”

“You think I’ll be working for you? I’ll be getting as far away from you as possible,” I retort.

“Like hell you will, unless you want your trust fund frozen,” he snarls, pressing me against the wall. We may be the same height but I’ve built more muscles over the years as I poured myself into swimming. My hands clench beside me, forcing myself to not retaliate.

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