I can't catch my breath

by Gayle Kirschenbaum

I'm in the pool.   I'm eight years old.   They say I'm small for a girl my age.   I'm swimming.   But I know that I don't swim right.   I have a hard time breathing.   I can't put my face under the water.   My head is turned to the right with my nose and mouth sucking in the air.   My neck hurts from keeping my head up.   I'm getting tired.   I can't catch my breath.   I'm hyperventilating.   I'm in the middle of the pool.   I'm way above my head.   I can't stand.   The edge is far away.   I'm so tired.   I can barely lift my arm.   I'm going suffocate.   I'm going to drown.  

I know he's in the pool.   I heard a splash.   I heard him say, "I'm gonna get you."   Where is he?   If he reaches me I won't have the strength to get away.   He's a strong swimmer.   He's much larger than me. No one's home.   Mom and Dad won't be back for two hours.   He's angry, very angry.    He won't believe me if I tell him I can't stay up.   I can't hold my breath long.   I can't exhale under water.   He can stay under for a long time.   He won't listen to me.   He's mad.   He doesn't want to be here with me.   He wants to be out with his friends.   He feels trapped, stuck because of me.   It's not my fault.   Mom and Dad think I'm too young to stay alone.   He suppose to watch me, he's suppose to protect me.   But he torments me.            

I can't breathe.   It's getting worse.   I'm hyperventilating.   I can't go on.   I have to stop.   Oh no, I feel something.   It's him.   He'll first grab my foot and then push my head down.   He wants a fight.   He likes to fight.   He always fights.   No, it's not him.   It's my imagination.   I'm going to drown before he has a chance to do it himself.

My eye hurts.   I have to close it.   I can't see through it.   It's swollen from last night.   He came after me with the butcher knife.   I ran for safety in the only room in the house with a lock on it, the bathroom.   This was his game, this is how he plays.  

I got away.   But he came after me again.   This time I was cornered in the den.   He was just across the room from me.   He threw something.    It slammed hard into my right eye.   It hurt alot.   What was it? Holding my eye, I looked down.   It was the head of my favorite doll.

I'm tired.   I'm going to drown.   I have to do something.   I know I'll turn around.   Lay on my back and float.   Okay, here goes.     I'm floating.   I'm afraid.   Where is he?   The sun is bright.   It's blinding.   I have to shut my good eye .   It's quiet.   I'm trying to breathe normally.   Maybe he's not in the pool.   Maybe he's in the house.   I start to calm down.   The sun begins to feel good on my body.   My strength is coming back.   I'm sure he's not in the pool.   He would have attacked me already.  

I hear the TV go on in the living room.   He's inside watching it.   I'm safe.   I can relax.      

Aah!   Oh no!    I can't breathe.   Get off of me.   Let my head go.    Stop it.   Stop it.    I can't scream.   No one can hear me.   I'm under the water.   I'm swinging my arms.   I'm trying to grab his leg.   He moves it before I can reach it.   He pushes me deeper.   I'm losing it.   This is it.   I'm going to die.   He's going to kill me.   It's over.

He lets go.   He's gone.   He's out of the pool.    I rise to the top and gasp for air.   I hear Mom scream,   "Alan, sweetheart, come here, I bought you a present. "   It's a gift for my assailant, my tormentor, my brother.   She'll never believe me.   She never does.   He told her I walked into a door and that's why my eye is swollen.   She believes him.   Not me.   She never will.   

I can breathe now but for how much longer I don't know.