By: Emaan Atif
I’ve learned, drowning isn’t the worst way to go. The feeling of utter helplessness, the crushing weight of the water above you and the realisation that there is no escape. Of course, after twenty-five years of going through the train wreck I call my life, I was more than familiar with the sensation of drowning, despite the fact that I have never set foot in a deep water body before. It’s actually quite similar to a panic attack. Imagine this: it feels like a weight on your chest, it’s like running a million miles away-yet still stuck in the same place. You try to get air in your lungs but fail every time.
I sit up, startled, gasping for breath. Ever since my best friend’s lifeless body was found in the murky depths of the Hudson river, my nights had been plagued with dreams of his ghost. I remember a time when I had no trouble sleeping, but that was a long time ago, before everything happened. “What didn’t he do?” I pondered. I thought about the investigation the police conducted after the corpse was found. In the end, they ruled it off as a suicide. No one bothered listening to my protests. I knew Theo, and I knew he would never have jumped off that bridge willingly. I still recalled our endless talks on the college lawn when we couldn’t sleep. I recall telling him about my fear of dying a slow and painful death. I remember him saying, “Life isn’t about the final moments, but the moments that lead up to them.” He told me that even though his life had been hard, he would never give up on the hope for a better future. That’s just not who he was! My best friend had been murdered, I was sure of it, and if that was the case, his killer was probably still out there somewhere. Theo had been pushed in the river, or thrown; he had not jumped - that much I was certain of.
I was going to prove this, and so I picked up my laptop and started typing down my thoughts. I would find a detective, someone better than those morons down at the police station, and I was going to get to the bottom of this mystery. With a newly determined mind, I closed my eyes for some much needed rest.
The beep of my phone woke me up later that evening, with an incoming message from the police chief saying “midnight on the bridge, come alone.” I was slightly puzzled, but my mission was too important to jeopardize. A sense of dread and anticipation surged through me. This was it! This was my chance to bring justice to my best friend, to reveal the true nature of his death. I spent the rest of my day preoccupied by the thoughts whooshing through my brain at a breakneck speed. At 11:45 that night, with adrenaline pumping through my veins, I drove to the old bridge across the river. I stood at the edge, gazing into the dark ripples of the water directly beneath me. I felt a chill run up my spine but before I could register it, a push on my shoulder sent me tumbling into the freezing depths of the abyss below as everything went black.
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