I feel like I'm drowning, my entire face submerging into ice cold water. The chill runs down my cheeks, my neck and over my shoulder, immersing my entire body. I feel the cold seep it's way through the little warmth I have left. For a second or two, I feel relief and I'm finally able to breathe again.
I open my mouth to inhale air but suddenly the icy water is back with a vengeance. It suffocates me, invading my throat and heading straight for my lungs. I thrash around, gasping for air. The more I struggle, the more dots I see through the closed lids of my eyes.
Again, as if playing on some sick repeat, I'm relieved of the water drowning my face. I use the chance to gasp for air, resembling a fish out of water. My brain is unable to think clearly and all I hear is a loud ringing in my ears. Before I become too comfortable, I remind myself that the water will soon be back . . .
And I'm right.