The crash

It is a strange thing to know exactly when you are going to die. 

As the jet rushed toward the ocean, the world outside the window turned into a blur of blue and white. My heart was hammering against my ribs so hard it felt like it might burst before the plane even hit the water. I never thought about how I would go. 

I always figured I’d be old, maybe in a bed somewhere quiet. I never imagined it would be in a metal tube in the middle of the Pacific. I felt a sudden, sharp grief for all the things I hadn't done. I’d never seen the world on my own terms. I’d never fallen in love with someone who actually loved me back. I’d spent my whole life just trying to survive my father, and now, it was all for nothing.

I wondered if he would cry. In his own twisted, broken way, he cared about me. He could have left me at a foster home when my mom ran off, but he didn't. He kept me. He fed me. Even if he made me pay for it in fear, I was the only thing he had left.

The pressure in the cabin was building up fast. My ears felt like they were going to pop, and the air grew thin and cold. I looked over at Ms. Davies and Mr. Coop. They were both bent over, heads tucked between their knees in the brace position. I copied them, lacing my fingers behind my head and squeezing my eyes shut. I held my breath, waiting for the world to end.

The pilot was shouting something over the intercom, but the sound was drowned out by the roar of the wind and the groaning of the plane’s frame. I just wanted it to be over. I wanted the fear to stop.

Then came the impact.

It felt like being hit by a freight train. Every bone in my body vibrated with a force so violent I thought I had been shattered into pieces. My mouth opened in a soundless scream as my head jerked forward.

For a few seconds, there was only darkness and the sound of groaning metal. Then, a sharp crack echoed through the cabin. One of the windows had given way.

I felt strong hands on my shoulders, fumbling with my seatbelt. I looked up through a daze to see Mr. Coop. His face was bleeding from a cut on his forehead, but his eyes were sharp and focused. He ripped the belt open and pulled me upward just as a wall of freezing seawater burst into the cabin.

The water was everywhere in seconds. It was so cold it stole the air right out of my lungs.

"Ms. Davies!" I choked out, coughing as the salt water sprayed my face.

She was still in her seat, struggling frantically with her belt. The mechanism must have jammed during the impact. I lunged toward her, my fingers clawing at the heavy fabric of the strap, trying to find the release. The plane was already tilting forward, the nose dipping deep into the sea.

I saw Mr. Coop out of the corner of my eye. He wasn't heading for the exit yet. He dove toward the front of the plane, disappearing into the water near the cockpit. A few seconds later, he emerged, dragging a heavy-looking waterproof sack. He had looped the strap across his chest, his muscles straining against the weight.

"We have to go!" he shouted, his voice barely audible over the rushing water.

"I can't get it open!" I screamed back, pulling at Ms. Davies’ belt.

The water was up to our waists now, then our chests. I looked into Ms. Davies’ eyes. I will never forget that look. It was pure, raw terror. She knew. She knew the plane was sinking and she was tied to it.

Tears gathered in my eyes, hot against the freezing spray. To be so close to someone and not be able to save them, it was a pain I couldn't describe. Then, something changed in her expression. The terror faded into a look of quiet resignation. She stopped struggling. She looked at me, reached out, and pushed my hands away from the belt. She pointed toward the broken window and gave me a small, firm shake of her head.

Go.

"No!" I sobbed, but then the water reached our chin.

I took one final, massive breath before the cabin was completely submerged. Everything went silent and blue. I kept clawing at the belt under the water, my lungs burning, but a hand gripped my waist.

Mr. Coop was pulling me. I kicked out, shaking my head frantically at him, pointing back toward the woman who was still sitting there in the dark. Mr. Coop looked at me through the water and shook his head back. His grip was like iron. He knew what I didn't want to admit: she was a dead woman.

He pulled me through the jagged opening of the window. We kicked away from the sinking jet, the white tail disappearing into the water. 

We broke the surface, and I immediately began to scream.

"Why didn't you let me help her? We could have saved her! You just left her!"

My voice was ragged, and I was shivering so hard I could barely stay afloat. Mr. Coop looked at me, his face pale and pained.

"The frame was crushed," he said, his voice heavy. "The buckle was pinned under the seat structure. If we stayed another ten seconds, the suction would have taken us down with her. The plane is gone."

As if to prove his point, the last bit of debris vanished beneath the waves. We were alone.

Then, the sky opened up. Rain began to pour down in thick, heavy sheets. I looked around. There was nothing. Just endless, choppy water.

"We need to swim," Mr. Coop said.

"To where?" I asked, my voice trembling. "There's nothing here, Mr. Coop. We're in the middle of the ocean."

"The pilot said something before we hit. About an island. It’s that way," he pointed into the grey mist. He reached out and grabbed my wrist. "Just swim, Ariana. Don't think about the distance. Just move."

He began to swim, his strokes powerful and steady despite the heavy sack crossed over his body. I tried to keep up, but the cold was starting to seep into my bones. My clothes were heavy, dragging me down.

Minutes felt like hours. The rain got heavier, the drops stinging my eyes. I felt my limbs getting heavy. The adrenaline that had kept me moving was fading, replaced by a crushing exhaustion. I was freezing. I was so, so tired.

I started to lag behind. My movements became slow and jerky. I felt my head dip under the water, and for a second, I thought about just letting it happen. It would be so easy to stop fighting.

Suddenly, I felt a hand under my chin, pulling me upright. Mr. Coop was there, treading water and holding me up. He tapped my face with his free hand, his expression urgent.

"Ariana! Stay with me. Open your eyes."

"I... I can't," I whispered. "I'm so tired."

"You have to," he said, his voice cracking for the first time. "I can't pull both of us and this bag. If you stop swimming, we both drown. Do you hear me? Move your legs!"

I tried. I really tried. But my body wouldn't listen anymore. The world started to go grey at the edges. I felt myself go limp in his arms, the sound of the rain fading into the background. I couldn't continue.