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I feel myself floating down slowly. The cool water envelops every part of my body, my clothes float around freely, my socks wet, and my shoes full—my shoes, my expensive as all hell shoes. I try to open my eyes, only to fail. How did I end up here? Why am I here? I ask these questions to myself, not expecting an answer, but just torturing my soul with them.
Suddenly, I feel a jolt deep in my head, forcing my eyes open. As I grab my neck, I turn my body in the water, trying to make sense of it, but I spin around aimlessly. My instincts kick in, forcing me to fight. A single thought fills my head as I try to swim, not knowing if I'm going up or down:
"I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die!!"
I swam as if my life depended on it—because it very well did. As I swam, I felt my head hit something. I looked down and saw the floor of the river. I wanted to laugh at myself. Even now... I'm still incompetent.
I closed my eyes, accepting my death.
Then, I felt a softness cradle me. I recognized the sensation moments later, once the shock passed. A bed. I had survived.
I turned around in the bed. It was uncomfortable, like a hospital bed, as I had expected. I slowly opened my eyes, expecting a mask on my face, an IV drip hooked into my arm, maybe my girlfriend next to me, crying.
Instead, I saw a wooden wall with green floral wallpaper and a lit fireplace with a black metal grate. Next to it, on a rocking chair, sat an antique violin, its strings made of a lusterless material. If I had known more about these things, I might have recognized them as cow guts, but of course, I wasn't knowledgeable.
I sat up and looked around the room at the snow and ice hugging the window outside.
"Where am I?"