Hoi Kni Knew

I take one last deep breath as I dive into the bathtub, softy being submerged in the warm, murky water.

Counting each heartbeat, each lethargic second that passes while my lungs grow tighter and my chest more pained; I wait. I cannot lower my heart rate, and each moment creates an increasingly tense body, one unwilling to bend into the sleeplike state that I desire.

Today, I am Houdini.

The magician. The madman. The alien. The stranger.

I want to become what I envy.

I want to discover the truth behind the mysteries that sit unanswered in my head. I hunt for clarity.

I lay for minutes, perhaps two or more, but it soon becomes apparent that I will blackout, fainting into my lungs’ dizzying oxygen hunger. Their screams are deafening, but I do not listen. My vision fades in and out, turning the tiled bathroom walls into a blurry, clouded gray.

Energy gradually dissipates from my body.

I grow heavy, as if leaden weights are pulling my arms closer towards the bottom.

I count harder.

It is hard to hold on, to not let everything slide away.

My heart beats faster with each second that is counted, and I completely lose track of time.

How long has it been?

My wonderment fades with the pain.

A headache begins. I close my eyes.

This is no magic. Houdini knew this well. I see no visions underwater as he did, stuck beneath the frozen layers of water, ghosts guiding him further towards home.

I do not swim. I cannot continue.

Houdini dies. Three hits to the stomach, resulting in a burst liver. His canyon home burns, the magic of which it was birthed still smoldering, his wife calling towards the heavens, waiting for the ultimate escape—the escape from death.

Here I stop, almost jumping from the tub, gasping for air, holding my chest as I deeply inhale, my nails digging into my wrinkled skin.

My lungs scream within me.

The world speeds past me, faster than before.

I was never trained to breathe without air.