I stripped, leaving everything on the floor where it landed, before getting into the shower with just my lanyard around my neck.
My water and its heating was the only utility bill I personally was not responsible for. The purpose of this shower would be to ensure that I got my last month rent of money’s worth. I scrubbed myself and my funky lanyard double-clean. Then I stood there, head bowed, and let the water rush over me. It beat against my face and torso, until I was numb to the sensation and inured to the heat. I opened my mouth to inhale and the sheet of water parted for me—and more water instead of air rushed in, bitter and vile. I gagged and opened my eyes and my shower walls were gone. My lungs spasmed, the water I’d inhaled making me want to cough, and if I coughed—I looked up and couldn’t see any light. Endless ocean all around. No boat, no shore, just salt water. The cold buffeted me, moving with the wake of something I knew I did not want to see. My eyes stung, my throat knotted, and I drifted, suspended in the viscous dark.
With no other choice, I took a breath. I could feel the cold grabbing at my cheeks, forcing its way inside me, crawling into my mouth and down my throat. It flowed in me and through me, against my struggles and gagging, until all the water around me flowed inside me and disappeared, like I was inhaling it against my will and couldn’t stop, and I plummeted down, back into my shower, falling into a fetal position curled around the drain.
When I could move, I crawled out of my shower and puked dark salt water onto my bathroom floor.