Episode 3: Tribulation
Scene 17: Submersion
July 5th, 2023
Fwee-fwee-fwoooo...
Anthony's whistle echoed off the white tile walls of the communal bathroom, a cheerful melody that bounced between the shower stalls and sinks. He stood at the third sink from the left, hands under the running water, scrubbing methodically.
Fwee-fwee-fwoooo...
He was always first. Always up at 3:10 AM sharp, ten minutes before mandatory wake-up. It was strategy, really. Show initiative. Show improvement. Show the doctors he was getting better.
Also, he really had to piss.
Anthony shut off the faucet with a quick twist and reached for the sink plug, pressing it down into the drain. The porcelain was cold under his fingertips. He turned to leave—
Ssshhhhhhhhh...
He froze.
The water was still running.
"The... hell?"
Anthony turned back to the sink. The stream poured steadily from the faucet, clear and unrelenting. He reached for the handles, gripping the cold metal, and twisted them tighter.
Already shut.
He tried the other direction.
Nothing.
Ssshhhhhhhhh...
The sound grew louder in the silence of the empty bathroom.
Panic crept up his spine like cold fingers. He yanked the plug out, watching the water spiral down the drain in a violent whirlpool.
The water drained.
But the faucet kept running.
"Shit..."
Anthony backed away from the sink, his eyes fixed on the steady stream. He spun toward the door, his sneakers squeaking on the damp tile, and grabbed the handle.
Pulled.
Nothing.
He pulled again. Harder.
Nothing.
"What?"
He pressed his face against the gap between the door and frame, squinting through the narrow opening. No lock. The mechanism was clear. The door should open.
He yanked again. Four times. Five.
It didn't budge.
Anthony started pounding on the door with the flat of his palm, the sound echoing through the bathroom like gunshots.
"Heeey! I'm locked in here! Hello?!..."
Silence.
Only the water answered, its hiss steady and mocking.
"Fuuuck..."
He stepped back, staring at the door like it had personally betrayed him.
"Ain't we supposed to be up by this time? Can't tell me I'm the only one that has to go to the bathroom every morning..."
He returned to the door, hammering it with both fists now.
"HEEEEEY!!"
Plink. Plink. Plink.
Anthony froze.
The sound came from behind him.
He turned slowly.
Water was pouring over the edge of the sink, spilling onto the floor in thick, heavy streams.
"What?! No. No no..."
He rushed back to the sink, his shoes splashing through the growing puddle. He reached for the plug—
It wasn't there.
His hand groped uselessly at the drain. No plug. No stopper. Just the dark, open mouth of the pipe, and water bubbling up from below, rising faster than physics should allow.
Fssssshhhhhhh...
Behind him, all five shower stalls roared to life at once.
Fssssshhhhhhh...
The other four sinks erupted, water exploding from every faucet like opened fire hydrants.
"HEEY!! I need help in here!! N-Not with my piss or anything... The water's overflowing and I can't stop it!"
Nothing.
No footsteps. No voices. No guards.
The water was at his ankles now.
"How the—"
It shouldn't be rising this fast. It was impossible. The drains should be taking it. The bathroom wasn't sealed. But the water climbed, inch by inch, cold and relentless, soaking through his uniform pants.
Anthony splashed back to the door, nearly slipping on the slick tile, and hammered with both fists.
"HEEELP!! SOMEONE!!"
The water reached his knees.
His waist.
His chest.
"No no no no—"
It was rising faster now, exponentially, like the room was filling from below. Anthony looked around wildly, searching for a vent, a window, anything—
Nothing.
Just white tile and fluorescent lights and water.
The water reached his neck.
His feet left the floor.
He was floating.
"HEEEEEEELP!!"
Something grabbed his ankle.
Hard.
Anthony screamed as he was yanked down, his head plunging beneath the surface. Water rushed into his nose, his mouth, burning his sinuses and throat. His eyes flew open, stinging immediately in the chemically treated water.
He couldn't see anything. Just blurred white light from above and dark shapes below.
He kicked. Thrashed. His lungs screamed for air.
He broke the surface, gasping, coughing, his hands slapping uselessly at the ceiling now only inches from his face.
Ssshhhhhhhhh...
Still rising.
He gulped in one last breath—
And was dragged under again.
This time, the water forced its way past his lips, flooding his mouth. He clamped down, cheeks bulging, holding the air in his lungs with everything he had.
Twenty seconds.
His lungs began to burn.
He opened his eyes.
Darkness.
The lights were gone. The water was black. Endless. Vast.
He couldn't tell which way was up.
Thirty seconds.
His chest spasmed. His diaphragm contracted involuntarily, trying to force him to breathe.
Bubbles escaped his lips. Precious oxygen, spiraling away into the void.
He swam. One direction. Any direction.
Thirty-five seconds.
Nothing. No walls. No floor. No ceiling.
Just black water stretching infinitely in every direction.
His mind fractured. Hopelessness crushed down on him like the weight of the ocean.
And then—
Two eyes.
Massive. Golden. Glowing.
They appeared in the darkness ahead of him, twin suns burning in the void, each one larger than he is. They didn't blink. They just stared.
Directly at him.
Anthony's eyes went wide.
His diaphragm spasmed violently. His chest seized. His mouth opened involuntarily—
Water rushed in.
He gagged. Choked. His body convulsed, arms flailing, legs kicking uselessly.
His vision tunneled.
The golden eyes watched.
His brain screamed for oxygen that wasn't there.
Forty-five seconds.
Fifty.
His movements slowed. His limbs grew heavy.
Sixty seconds.
His brain shut down.
Anthony Reeves went limp.
He sank.
Down.
Down.
Down.
For a full minute, he descended through the black water, his body slack, his face pale, his eyes half-open and unseeing.
Until—
Thud.
He hit a surface.
Solid. Flat. Like the ceiling had been.
And then he fell through it.
Anthony's body landed with a soft thump on light taupe carpet.
He lay sprawled on his back, arms at his sides, eyes closed.
Not moving.
Not breathing.
Not wet.
The room around him was small, painted soft blue, with posters of cartoon characters on the walls and a toy box overflowing in the corner. A window with drawn curtains, the sky clear and sunny.
A child's bedroom.
Anthony didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
Didn't wake.
The room was silent except for the chirping of birds outside.
Chirp-chirp. Chirp-chirp.
Anthony's eyes snapped open.
He gasped—a sharp, desperate inhale.
But there was no coughing. No water expelled from his lungs. Just... air.
He lay on his back, staring up at a light blue ceiling. His chest rose and fell normally. His clothes were dry.
Chirp-chirp.
Birds.
Anthony sat up slowly, his hands pressing into soft carpet beneath him. Light taupe. Familiar.
He looked around.
Blue walls. Posters of cartoon characters. A small wooden desk. A twin bed with dinosaur sheets. He recognized them all.
"Wait..." His voice was small, uncertain. "Am I... dreaming?"
"Anthony..."
The voice came from behind him.
Soft. Feminine. Achingly familiar.
Anthony turned.
A woman stood in the doorway, backlit by darkness. She wore a white nightgown, her features obscured by shadow. But her silhouette was unmistakable.
Anthony's breath caught.
"Mom?" he whispered.
"My sweet baby boy..." She raised both arms toward him, palms up, beckoning. "Come here, honey. Come to Momma."
"No..."
Anthony's eyes darted around the room.
The walls flickered.
For just a fraction of a second, the blue paint was scorched black. The posters were ash. The air was thick with smoke.
Then it was blue again.
"Nononono... This... You're..."
He clenched his head in both hands, squeezing his eyes shut.
"This isn't real. This isn't real."
"Anthony..."
Her voice was different now. Lower. Colder.
"What did you do?"
Anthony looked up.
The woman stood closer now, though he hadn't seen her move. Her nightgown was charred, blackened at the edges. Her skin was blistered, peeling. Her hair was singed and matted.
"WHAT DID YOU DOOO?!"
Her voice exploded into a shriek that rattled the walls.
"Nooooo!!"
Anthony squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his teeth, pressing his palms against his ears.
"I WISH I NEVER HAD YOU! YOU'RE A DISGRACE! A MISTAKE!"
"Stop—"
"IF IT WEREN'T FOR YOU..."
Her arms dropped to her sides.
Her voice changed.
Deeper.
More choked and ancient.
"...Mommy would still be alive."