The icy water rushed in through the broken windows, swallowing her legs first, then her waist, creeping higher with every heartbeat she could still feel.
As the car sank deeper, her lungs tightened, her chest trembling—but it wasn't the water that hurt the most.
It was the memories.
They came uninvited, flooding her mind faster than the river ever could.
She saw herself as a little girl—
small, thin, always cold—
standing alone in the corner of the orphanage hall while the other children laughed and ran around.
She never ran. She was always too tired… or too scared.
She remembered the meals—
not meals really—just scraps.
She remembered hiding bread under her pillow because she never knew if tomorrow would be kind or cruel.
She remembered the bullying—
the shoves,
the whispers,
the names that stuck to her skin like bruises.She remembered crying silently at night, terrified someone might hear her and hurt her again.
But she survived.
Every day, she survived.
She learned to work harder than everyone.
To push her body until her hands trembled.
To study even when her vision blurred.
To fight even when her voice shook.
Because she had no one to lean on.
No one to inspire her.
No one to tell her she mattered.
She became her own strength.
Her own hope.
Her own shelter.
But now, in this sinking metal cage…
for the first time, she felt something close to regret.
Her breath hitched.
Her fingers reached for the roof instinctively as the water rose past her shoulders, cold like a thousand needles.
She had always fought so hard…
yet she had never once lived for herself.
Her last thought burned brighter than the fading light above:
"Nothing ever came to me easily…
I had to fight for every piece of my life…
and now even my last breath is slipping away."
Her vision darkened.
Her heartbeat slowed.
The river closed over her completely like a final, merciless curtain.
And with her last shred of consciousness, she whispered inside her fading mind—
"I don't want it to end like this…"