I haven’t been sleeping well as of late. Try as I might, it’s as though the very moment my weary head hits the pillow, a deluge of anxieties from the day floods every fold and crevice in my cerebrum. There is no turning it off until morning. My head becomes a playground for every dreadful deed that’s ever been or will be done to me. Each fear compounding, hour by hour, until I find myself burried under a heap of burdens too heavy to bear. I lie there beneath it each night until the sun rises. My personal hell on a 24-hour cycle.
Last night was different. For the first night in weeks, the weight of my day hung from my eyelids like an anchor and I was drifting off before I could even wonder at why. The world beyond my closed eyes petered out and my meandering thoughts receded beneath the haze of slumber. Swathed in blankets, I slipped seamlessly into a dream-state that mingled with reality so closely, I did not question how I’d suddenly found myself in the bathtub.
I wish I had, but I didn’t. I did not question how I’d ended up there from my bed only moments ago, or how I could suddenly fit comfortably in my tub at 6’0 tall. I simply basked in the soothing warmth of the water, letting the steam clear my sinuses that had been stuffed since March. Finally, a reprieve from the grief of daily life. A moment in time where I could not feel the throttle of my corporate job, the way it grips and squeezes, threatening to flatten you without notice. No, in this moment, it was just myself and the quiet gurgle of the drain with its plug that doesn’t fit quite right.
Normally, I think, the noise would have irritated me. When you’re stressed, the smallest murmur can sound like a cocaphony of buzzing bees to your jaded ear. It didn’t this time, though. Instead, the drain’s burble was like a musical accompaniment to my relaxation. I bathed in it like the water, letting the sound flow over and past me with no resistance. I had resigned to let the bath empty at this slow pace while I lay in it, opting to ease myself out of the warmth instead of getting up all at once.
A chill travelled through my body as the surface of the water dwindled down, exposing my bare chest. I sunk myself lower, trying to stay beneath the water and prolong the sting of the cold air as long as I could.
To my surprise, it worked.
The more I let myself lower into the water, the more submerged I became, as though the bottom of the bath deepened as the water drained down. Dream-logic prevailed and I returned to repose, determined to rest until my skin was shriveled.
I continued to leisurely sink and soak, watching bubbles swirl in place, only contemplating vacating the bath once my feet had fallen asleep. I felt that dreadful tingling in my toes, followed by the tautness of my calf muscles when I shifted. My body trying desperately to tell my mind I had been sitting in place for too long, but I could not be persuaded. I disregarded the feeling until it kept crept its way up my thigh like some mass of prickly-legged insects. Overcome with the urge to scratch it like an itch, I finally moved to massage my leg and offer myself some reprieve. Only, when I grasped for my lower body, I could not find it.
My hands stirred below the surface of the water, hunting for any bit of flesh to fix onto. With each jerk, the water glided over my probing hands before settling back into place. As my frantic efforts proved futile, I was suddenly aware of the sweat stinging my eyes and the way my throat felt thicker. My previously steadied heart thumped and thundered so violently, I feared it ran the risk of rupturing.
I lifted my hands from the water and cautiously parted the batch of bubbles separating me from the confirmation of my fear. Where my legs should have been, there was instead a tawny shade to the liquid, as though my flesh had melted and nearly dissolved away into the water. I plunged my hands into the water once again, watching as it distorted around my motions before resolving itself back into a whirl on its way to the drain.
I could only gaze into the spiral as my flesh seemed to diffuse with the water, following it to its destination. Any attempts to lift myself from the bath were met with complete failure and, with each manuever, my muscle tissue liquefied, straining itself through the drain.
I lost my hands when I dared to manually cover the drain with them in an effort to slow the draw of water. They dissipated in a twist with no friction to stop them. I surrendered, then, giving in to the pull. I had no choice but to soften and fuse with the water, feeling the pins-and-needles working their way through me until each piece of me vanished down the drain.
Finally, my vision went– down, down, down until the only thing I could comprehend was the churning and twirling of the bath water fully enveloping me. No- moving through me. It continued on like this for some time. My sight left me first and then my sound. I cannot say how long I spent seeping and swirling down that drain.
My torment only ceased when morning arrived and the sun came through the window, threatening to render me blind through my eyelids if I did not move. I hoisted myself out of bed, prepared to shake this nightmare off as best as I could. I didn’t intend to dwell on it any longer than I needed. Afterall, there is work to be done.
That’s what I told myself, anyway- until I went into my bathroom this morning and saw the bathtub still freshly damp from the night before.