Chapter 2 - The Fall
Time seemed to fracture into jagged, slow-motion shards. Derek was already moving with aggressive, punishing strides, cutting across the grass like a predator closing in on wounded prey. He crossed the distance in seconds, right as Maya reached the narrowest point of the pool's edge.
Hearing the heavy, vibrating thuds of his boots rushing up behind her, Maya turned halfway around. Genuine, raw fear finally broke through the shield of her teenage defiance.
I saw his hand come up, fingers curled into a rigid, violent shape.
It wasn't a gentle tap to get her attention. The heel of Derek’s palm collided directly with her shoulder with a concentrated, explosive force. The rubber heel of Maya's sneaker scraped uselessly against the slick, algae-touched stone of the coping. Her dark eyes went wide, locking onto mine across the shimmering water in a silent, heart-shattering scream.
Gravity took over with terrifying efficiency. Her feet flew out from under her, and as she tipped backward, the side of her skull struck the hard, right-angled lip of the concrete pool edge with a sickening, audible crack that echoed sharply over the ambient party noise.
Then, she vanished beneath the blue surface.
"Maya!"
The scream tore itself out of my throat, raw and agonizing. Without a second thought, I plunged into the water fully clothed, my heavy sundress wrapping around my limbs like lead weights as I fought my way down into the chilling depths. I found her floating face down, hair fanned out like dark ink in the water, completely motionless.
Grabbing her by the collar of her shirt, I kicked upward with every ounce of adrenaline left in my body, dragging her limp, bleeding body back to the surface. With the help of a cousin who had finally snapped out of his shock, we hauled her heavy, waterlogged frame out onto the scorching concrete patio.
"Call 911! Somebody call 911 right now!" I shrieked, water streaming down my face as I threw myself over her chest.
I positioned my hands, locked my elbows, and began compressions, counting aloud in a frantic, prayer-like chant. Every second stretched into an eternity. Her lips were turning an ominous shade of blue, her skin stark white against the gray stone.
"Come on, baby. Please, open your eyes. Stay with me," I sobbed, pressing down until my wrists thundered with pain.
After what felt like hours of relentless CPR, her chest convulsed violently. She coughed up a rush of pool water, her heavy eyelids fluttering open with a dazed, unfocused squint. The relatives surrounding us let out a collective, shuddering sob of relief.
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"Thank God! She's breathing! She's awake!" someone cried out.
Maya groaned softly, her hand weakly reaching toward the back of her head where a rapidly swelling, purple contusion was already forming. But the relief was violently short-lived. Sirens wailed in the distance, screaming down our quiet residential street, and moments later, two paramedics burst through the side gate with heavy medical kits in hand.
