Yolo

Yolo

I’m frozen, starring at the water below me. My muscles twitching with nervousness, my heart pumping adrenaline through my body like a warm, steady flow of a river. It is silent, dead silent; only the occasional scuffling on the crowd’s feet upon the metal stairs of the grandstand dares to disturb it. “Beep”, something breaks the silence, it’s the buzzer signalling the start of the race. I hear the light splashes of the swimmers around me as I’m snapped back to reality and leap off the platform, plummeting towards the crisp surface of the water. I slice through the water like a sharp knife cutting jelly. I sink down, down, down, glancing at the Olympic rings tattoo on my left bicep. Bubbles begin to prickle my cheeks as I turn up and furiously kick my legs towards the surface. I am a torpedo. I burst out of the water, my mouth gaping open, filling my lungs with cool air and my nostrils with the burning, chemical scent of chlorine. I level my body out and begin my streamline breaststroke with the other swimmers only an arm’s length in front and fifteen laps to go. As the pattern of the stroke settles in, I think back to four years ago when this all started, I used to swim in the local pool every afternoon, that was where I first met Elliot, he was my only friend. I thought he wasn’t like the other boys who used to push me around; I thought he was different…
It all began on a Thursday afternoon…
I’d had a terrible week, I was targeted by the guardians in front of everyone, I wasn’t surprised, I knew it was coming, it happened all the time. Sometimes I thought about ending it all, but it was too selfish, my mother would be heartbroken, besides, I had dreams.
I swam for hours, up and down the concrete lanes, it made me forget about life, it was the only place where I could get away from everything. I jumped into the pool and about five minutes after I had warmed up and started lapping, I spotted him. I knew it was a boy from Holminster because he had the dark red...

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