tangled up in blue

00- PROLOGUE

Black.

That was all I could see, at first, as the world faded around me. That was the moment I realised death had a colour.

And then, the moment passed, and I opened my eyes.

I didn't panic straight away. For a brief, fleeting, moment, I could imagine that I was sat down with my family, outside in the garden as the sun turned golden, laughing over things that we used to laugh about.

I suppose, in a way, I was sat down with my family.

Nobody was laughing, though.

When the panic set in, and I realised that this wasn't a nightmare, I looked around, and saw them.

My Dad had been driving. He was sitting beside me, still, and as his white shirt billowed, I thought he looked like a ghost. I didn't look at him for long, though. I had to find her.

When I did, I wished I hadn't.

My father had always adored my mother. Turning to look at her, I could see why. Even underwater, blood spilling like crimson watercolour from her slack, white lips, she was beautiful.

Dad had let me sit in the passenger seat for once. I only looked at him for a brief moment, though. It was almost as if he were asleep.

Is the dog in the car?

What about my sister?

My sister. I couldn't remember her name. I didn't know who I was looking for.

Mom.

Mom.

Noah.

Coming to my senses, I tried banging on the window and pulling on the door, but the pressure was too great. I couldn't free myself. When I turned to my left and tried unbuckling my father's seatbelt, it came unstuck. He didn't move.

I managed to open the door. I wasn't sure how, when I could barely keep my eyes open. I bent my arm the wrong way, and something snapped. Was it me, or the seatbelt? I didn't know. I was floating.

Floating, floating, floating.

I wanted to float away forever.

Mom.

I can't leave her.

I can't reach her.

She looked like a painting, under all that blue. The kiss. She had always loved that painting. It was hanging upon the living room wall, above the chair she used to be sitting in every morning when I came downstairs. Her limp body curved, and swayed, and waltzed in the blue, as if it were kissing the water all around her. The red swam around her like paint. For a brief moment, I thought she opened her eyes, and I could hear singing. She was a mermaid. She was beautiful.

There was light coming from somewhere, as I was pulled further and further from the car. I didn't know which way was up, but I looked anyway.

I looked, and I looked, and I drowned, as the water curled like smoke between my lungs, and tugged the air away. I imagined there were ballerinas in my chest, pulling the breath from my lungs like silk; two lovers dancing over my still, dying heart.

They say that drowning is the worst way to die.

But when the water fills your lungs, and you finally let go, there's nothing that could feel more peaceful.