• I floundered around like a beached fish, my arms splashing wildly. Wet... Soaking, shivering, slimy wetness. I hated it. I loathed it. I dispised it. Water, surrounding, pulling, grabbing, sucking my frail body into its dark, murky depths. Black swamp waters- sinking, groping, yanking me under. I reached out to the hand that appeared above my head, relieved. I could see escape from the watery grave below my bare, cold, wet feet. The hand grabbed hold. My hope flared like the last flame in a roomful of smoking candles. Pressure. Screaming. Submerged, I squeezed my cobalt, stinging eyes shut, flailing. I bobbed to the surface, gasping for breath. The hand was gone. The sillhouette was gone. Vanished. Disappeared.

    I pulled myself ashore to watch the remnants of my little boat gurgle and sink. I shook my head, my dark brown, dirty hair dripping with slimy algae and liquid. I rubbed my breast where someone had pushed me over in the dark. A gash along the right hand side of my corral pink dress marred its once feminine, womanly figure. My hip stuck out, only the shorts I had been secretly wearing concealed my legs, and those were tattered as well. Another tear across my chest revealed blood and a dirty white t-shirt. The dress barely hung on my shoulders, the seams torn. I had hated that dress anyways. I scrambled onto my shaking legs and stumbled in the dark of midnight, daring to glance over my shoulder at the accident.

    It hadn't been an accident. I felt the blood on my breast. I could feel the slight breeze through the damp clothing I wore. I could see the man's grin behind my eyelids, haunting me, taunting me. I felt my split lip and the blood smeared across my face, mingling with the red lipstick. I blinked. There was the man, calling to me out to my aunt's back porch with a wineglass in his hand. I gingerly touched the egg sized bump on the back of my skull. The image of the man offering the wine to me flashed through my brain like the wave of pain sweeping through me. I squeezed my teary eyes shut. I was far, far away from my home in Arizona, where there was no large swamp to get drowned in, to begin with. My aunt had invited her twenty-one year old niece to her wedding anniversary, taking place in Virginia, near the Atlantic Ocean. Swampy grounds.

    I had accepted, ecstatic that I would meet my fun uncle from the Southeast United States. Florida. My mother had forced me into the now distroyed pink dress and sent me along, promising to have my husband along within a week or so. He had been away on a business trip to Africa. I had been practically shipped to my aunt in conditions I was unacustomed to. The back of the plane. My husband and I usually traveled in first class, but I took this as a way to conserve money, so, I went along. When I had finally reached my aunt's house, a few days before the party, I had a chance to connect with my relatives. My aunt had brought out a bottle of wine for us to share and, of course, she got drunk and my uncle and I had to escort her to bed. My uncle and I sat together and talked for a while. I noticed suddenly that he was far younger than my aunt, who was already ten years younger than my mother, adopted, probably. He was around my age. A frightening thing to discover. The party was a hoax. Some sort of trap to lure me there. My "uncle" made a subtle advancement on me and I had backed off, saying that I already had a husband. The man chuckled and said something that would put my mind out of sorts for a few days.

    "No longer." I had been taken aback. My husband had called during my strange fligt to Virginia. I had been confused and, possibly, a little drunk. The man made another advancement on me again. I had backed away, holding onto my umbrella with a vice-like grip. I had retreated to my room and locked the door, refusing to let anyone except my aunt in. I later found that she had been drugged several times by that strange man, forcing her to pretend that he was her husband while her own was tied with ropes in the attic. I had gone to release my real uncle when the first gueats were beginning to arrive. The man backed away from my aunt and uncle and pretended to be their butler of sorts.

    I joined the throngs of the party, having a grand time until the man had approached me with the glass of wine. I was slightly drunk already and had followed him out onto the porch. Then the pain had hit me. Harder than a sack of concrete blocks.

    I found myself lying in a boat, halfway across the local swamp, with the man grinning at me. I had a terrible headache and blood smeared with my lipstick. I inquired what had happened and he just laughed and plucked at my dress. This man was advancing on me. By then, I had scootched all the way to the edge of the boat, teetering at the very lip of it. The man stopped paddling and crept forward. Then, I had fallen. Underwater, I thought I had a chance from escaping this...this beast. He jumped into the waist deep water and drew out a knife. He cought me across my chest as I came up. I slapped him hard, the only thing I could do. He slashed my side and grabbed a hold of the hemmed bottom of it. He yanked. It fell about me like a blanket shirked by a child. Surprised at my modest abilities, the man caught me by the wrist and twisted it behind by back. He shoved my head under the water again and I had kept my eyes open. I saw something that would scar me forever. Bodies littered the bottom of the swampwater. Women. I let loose a scream, but only bubbles would erupt from my mouth. I choked on the water. I coughed. I was dieing.

    There was a pressure on me, as if he was sitting on me, but I slipped out from under him and swam out into deeper water. There was when he had faked helping me and pushed me under again.

    I flashed back to the present and began shivering uncontrollably. I placed a hand on the nearest tree and gasped for breath, fear rattling through my very bones. I heard something that brought joy to my heart. Police sirens. I scrambled ahead, a sad smile on my face. I felt a gentle hand on me as I fell before someone's feet. I recognised those shoes. My husband sat down in front of me and wrapped me in his coat. He whispered sweet nothings to me as he rocked back and forth, promising that everything was going to be alright.

    "There he is!"

    "Go, go, go!"

    A shout of triumph pervaded the midnight air as I saw three policemen approach, with the man who had assulted me in tow. In handcuffs.