Sinjin Drowning Novels & Stories

When Han Jingjing and Jiang Jindong were carried up, Jiang Jindong still held Han Jingjing's hand tightly. Everyone put them down. Jiang Jindong had no time to check if he was injured. He pounced on the unconscious Han Jingjing first. Seeing that Han Jingjing was suffocating because of drowning, Jiang Jindong pressed her chest while doing artificial respiration for her. Han Yingying turned her head awkwardly, not wanting to see the heart-piercing scene. Gu Zihang stood beside Han Yingying, drenched all over. He did not say anything, but just accompanied her quietly.

Blood splattered across my shoulder. He grunted, breath knocked from his lungs, but his arms tightened around me, protective, unyielding. “Hey—” I choked. Then the world tipped. We went over the rail. Roberto’s laughter echoed above us as the deck vanished. The sea swallowed us whole. Cold. Violent. The water slammed into my lungs as we sank. His grip never loosened. Blood streamed from him, staining the water dark. The current ripped at his mask. It tore free.

There was no Father John to taunt me and no one to look at me with that knowing gaze. I curled myself up in my bed. My eyes lingered longer than usual on the Ceiling until they became blurry. The faint sound of children laughing outside, the faded echoes of footsteps, bells chiming. Each time I closed my eyes, I was there again. Standing helplessly, his hands gripping the back of my neck, his breath fanning my cheeks as he whispered. “You were born in sin Simon, but I will cleanse you of that sin.” I turned my face burying it into the pillow, trying to shake off the memory.

Sofia The sun was bleeding into the ocean, a massive hemorrhage of crimson and violet that signaled the end of the world or at least, the end of our world. It was our last night. Tomorrow morning, the jet would be waiting we would be carried back to the suffocating reality of the city. I lay on the massive bed, naked, my body tangled with Luca's. I traced the line of the black ink on Luca's bicep, a complex, geometric design that disappeared into his armpit. My finger followed the raised skin, memorizing the texture.

Si Ning mumbled thinking of a way to save his phone. It wasn’t far, the sea doesn’t look far too and all he had to do was to go over the railing and pick his phone. Si Ning swung his leg over the railing and lowered to reach for the phone but he wasn’t able to grab it. He grunted stretching his hand only to stagger to see his other leg was dangling and he had no time to shout as he fell into the sea.

Shoved by hands pressing into the top of my head. I looked up to see Sabrina standing over me, grinning. Beside her sat my brother, grinning just the same. They pushed their hands into the top of my head and shoved me under the water, laughing. I drowned, and Matt’s spine was shattered into a million pieces. I only awoke the next morning, drenched in sweat and in a panic, the air filled with the sound of my blaring alarm.

When Shaun thought he's going to die for real, he was then dragged by his hair, his scalp felt like separating from him, and he was weak to fight back, his blood staining the way, it was then he was thrown inside a tank, a tank exactly like where Penelope was. He tried to climb back up despite the pain, but he was hit on the head by a hammer, before the tank was sealed, drowning the last oxygen left in him. The chemical drowning him cleanse, his body, turning much redder than the hammer. Tired from trying, Shaun gave up the fight and prayed that Rikko will still save Penelope, whatever happens to him. And before totally loosing consciousness, he felt electricity was sinking unto skin, to his

Again, I cower in terror, crying, hoping I survive this. He stops, the rise and fall of his chest is heavy. Quietly, he cups my chin with his bleeding hand, forcing me to face him. “Good thing I’m done.” He laughs, enjoying the torture. “Go fuck the bastard, loser.”

Here, in the liquid dark, it was an executioner. She saw them. Above her, faces blurred by the dark water, their eyes wide with the same terrible knowledge. Kazimir, his usually granite Russian features contorted into a mask of silent terror. Jun, his arms flailing, a silent scream bubbling from his lips as he struggled against the unseen current dragging him down into the depths. They were drowning, not in the sea, but in something unclear, something that felt wrong—a thick, dark, syrupy substance that clung to her suit like tar.