One thing I've learned,
nobody deserves what they get
and a small few get what they deserve,
I'm just doing my best to fix that

along the way I see

though my intent is only to make things right
even I am no better than those I seek to punish

He fell.

Limbs flailing uselessly, trying to right himself, to grab hold of something that just wasn't there, he fell. Only the sound of rushing water drawing close gave him any indication of when he'd hit the surface, and with that he tried to prepare himself for it.

He wasn't prepared. He hit the icy water like a brick wall, pain and cold and fear all mixed up into one feeling. Abruptly, the world went silent but for the dull roar of water in his ears. The brackish water rushed into his mouth and lungs, and he choked, expelling what little air he had. He couldn't see the surface nor feel which direction was up, and the rushing water tumbling him over and over made it all the more hopeless. A certainty settled over him as his limbs flailed uselessly. He was going to die here. He gave it his best- he tried to swim to where he suspected the surface might be- but as the pain in his lungs intensified into a burning pressure, the need to draw breath grew too strong. The seconds ticked by. He despaired. He couldn't hold on any longer.

He took a breath.

Water flooded his lungs, and he choked on that too, more water quickly replacing that which he coughed out. His thrashing limbs still. His rushing mind slowed. Incoherent thoughts cut in and out, his mind going blank between the meaningless flashes of thought. Ryler's death. A door. His little sister. A feeling of regret. A door. The stalker man's voice. The things he said.

The door.

In his fast-fading mind, the door resolved itself more firmly. The man's muffled voice came to him from far away, too distorted to understand. He was being told something vital. There was something he was missing.

It was the door. Something about the door. The other thoughts left him completely, leaving only the image of the door: old, battered wood, water-rotted, cast iron hinges- and the thing he'd missed- what he needed to realize-

The door was open.

He didn't know what it meant. But he had to hold on, and he struggled to hold on to consciousness, because he didn't want to die, and because he now realized there was something else in the water with him.

Weak hands grabbed at his jacket, and he grabbed back, seizing hold of an unidentifiable slimey something. In a few more seconds, they broke the surface. Cold, blessed, air chilled his face, the sounds of the city returning to him. He weakly coughed out water, only able to take tiny breaths of air that made him cough even more. He needed help. He needed someone to force the water out of his lungs. Almost as if in response to this thought, something hits him hard in the gut. It hurts like hell, and being forced to cough every last bit of everything out of his lungs is no treat. It takes a few more moments for him to be able to breathe in again, and the pain returning to his oxygen-starved lungs made him start to panic all over again. But his breath returned slowly, better than before, and his weak grip on the slimy something got tighter again. They were still in the water, and Blix couldn't really tell what was happening now. He just held on, focusing on breathing and not passing out.

Human Blix! and a self-portrait of me. haha. just a dumb sketchpage.

This is what you get.
this is what you get.
this is what you get..
when you mess with us.

Karma police.
Ive given all I can
its not enough
Ive given all I can,
but we're still on the payroll..

..This is what you get.
this is what you get.
This is what you get,

when you mess with us
And for a minute there
I lost myself
I lost myself
phew, for a minute there
I lost myself
I lost myself..

For a minute there
I lost myself, I lost myself

phew, for a minute there
I lost myself
I lost myself..