Drowning Under Pressure

Drowning Under Pressure
Flash Fiction



An eardrum-shattering screech fills the night as if the car cries out in pain. We whirl. We swirl. Then thumping sounds. All I perceive is pieces of the star-speckled black sky mixed in with darkened evergreen we passed on the left, driving, and the early November snow. A branch forces through the window and stings my arm like a porcupine. The scent of spruce attacks my nostrils.

From the backseat, my five-year-old boy shouts, “Mommy, help me!” and my heart sinks.

My stomach jolts up into my throat. I’m getting dizzy from the constant motion. Round and round we spin, tumbling down the mountainside. I want to reach toward him, but my seatbelt restricts me from moving. So I open it, trying to comfort him with my touch. “Mother’s touch,” he calls it, but I can’t concentrate now on soothing him. Frozen, my fingers like icicles dig into his knees. All I wanted was to get away from home. To forget.

“Sweetie, take my hand,” I tell him, but at that moment, I am thrown headfirst into the backseat. All is left in my mind, Is he all right? Did I hit him when I fell? I taste blood in my mouth.

“Mommy, I’m scared,” he whispers. His tiny hands cover his round face, brown curls falling over them.
There’s a sound like when he jumps into the pool and shouts “cannonball,” but it’s much more thundering, and I discern the water is deep. I try to grab him.

“We got to get out!” I shout and push open the metal buckle to his strap.

I pull on him, but he’s still in the booster seat as if glued to it.

“Please, don’t leave me! I don’t wanna die,” he cries.

A precious face framed by sandy-blond hair appears in front of me. Her eyes deep blue, peering into my soul. Her lips in a feverish red quiver, hands stretched out to me, inches away from mine. For a moment, I believe she’s here. My little girl. I want her to be—

“Mommy!” My boy’s scream echoes in my ears.

I jerk forward. “Yes, don’t worry! I save you.”

I drag his whole body up, but his foot is stuck. The water smells like fish and reeds, filling the bottom of the car, seeping into my boots. We’ll drown. But what if only him— No, I can’t let that happen!

A shiver runs up my spine, and I want to shut my eyes and imagine this is all a dream. I want to wake up! I feel the coolness of the air even though I’m sweltering from fear. Drips of cold sweat run down my back under my blouse. This is real. I know it is. I watch the river flowing through the broken window. My muscles tense. With all my strength, I pull one more time, and he howls in pain, but he’s free.

I push against the car door. The water resists. Again, I thrust into the door with all my might and force it open. I race through, holding him firm. His head bangs against the top of the car, and he goes limp.

Got to get out, all I can think of as I press his warm body tight to mine. He’s still breathing.
I swim with one arm, holding him in the other, with both feet kicking the water. Forceful. Determined.

I can’t lose another child, I repeat on a loop, filling my aching head.


First Published by Ariel's Dream Literary Journal on June 21st, 2020.