He struggled to breathe; he didn't know what was going on everything was blurred, dark, and vivid at the same time, the adrenaline spiking through his system, arms flailing about trying to find purchase, to push him to air. As he sank, he grasped desperately to the garrote around his ankle unable to finagle his fingers under the small wire. Farther and farther down to the bottom he went, as the pressure builds his mind snapped back to the previous few hours that led to this moment....
Salvador Jensen was just arriving home on foot after a long day of dreary law classes. His first year at college was not going as expected he'd worked hard studying day in and day out trying to achieve his father's dream of him getting into Harvard law school, but all his steamrolling through the education system seems to have left him without any coal. Sal was just so desperate to reach this point, motivated by the constant yelling of his father, to do better and be better, to be something that isn't even attainable that when he finally got out of that situation, he realized how foolish it had all been.
As Sal meandered along the sidewalk in downtown Boston, his long black hair swishing in a ponytail behind him, he tried to find the motivation to do anything his father had been drilling into him for years to do, study? What for? what would he do with the degree? As these questions swirled through the mind of the bespectacled youth, he reached the foot of his brick and mortar three-story apartment building. Absentmindedly pressing his key into the main entrance lock, he wondered aloud "what would I even do with myself after I graduated?" taking the rickety old flight of stairs up to his second-floor apartment when he arrived fumbling with his keys he felt a breeze. Looking down the ghastly, blue carpet red oak, hallway to the window at the end he said: "Huh I guess Fred got sick of the scorching heat in this place." as he finally managed to get his key into the lock, walking into his studio apartment plopping his backpack on the ground by the door he saw himself in the mirror and sighed saying: "I guess I'll never fill into this Harvard jersey dad got me". Looking back at him was a 5'11" skinny almost to the bone, 18-year-old boy with long black hair that just never wanted to sit correctly unless in a tight ponytail, with angular features that most fantasy fans would describe as elvish "not that those angular cheekbones have ever helped me with girls though" he chuckled to himself. As he moved on to place his glasses onto his nightstand fully intending to take a shower and call it a night he was startled by the fact that he couldn't find his cat, Arnold McMuffin.
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Searching through his closet only to find nothing but his usual jeans and comfy t-shirts he started to panic not understanding where the cat could have gone, "this is an immensely small space it's not like the cat could hide anywhere but the closet." he mumbled to himself, nervously. As he paces back and forth wondering what could have happened, he hears a loud THUMP against his door. He rushes to the peephole only to see a man in a grey, nondescript hoodie, and jeans holding what appeared to be a letter. Sal opened the door slightly ajar while keeping the chain on and asks "yes? do you need something?" The man shoves the letter through the gap and says: "Read it if you want to see something miraculous." and rushes off down the hall. Sal confused by this closes the door and looks at the letter, it's just a normal white parchment letter with the name "Sal" written on it.
Sal ponders the intelligence of opening a letter with his name on it from a random stranger he has never seen before. "fuck it" he says and tears open the damnable thing. The letter only has one sentence on it which says "See you there, Good luck Sal." decidedly creeped out he throws it away before rushing out the door in search of his cat.
"well that was decidedly hectic and terrifying but not miraculous," Thinks Sal while he's sinking to the bottom of the Massachusetts Bay wondering where and why that strange burly dude decided to knock an 18-year-old unconscious and then right when they wake up to proceed to throw them into the Atlantic ocean with a cinder block on their ankle.
His ears pop with the encroaching pressure his head starts to ache, lungs screaming for air Sal desperately tries to free himself again only finding the wire cut into the skin of his ankle. As his lungs betray him gasping for the air that's not there, as everything starts to fade to black he only wishes his mother was still alive to mourn him.