What We Did to Survive

“Emmy!” I scream. Her blond hair is plastered against the glass and tangled in the shoulder of her life jacket.

She doesn’t react. Her eyes are open, and she blinks, but she looks straight through me. Her middle knuckle taps against the glass three more times, and then her hand falls.

I rap my knuckles against my side of the glass, and her eyes focus on me for a second before she stares through me again.

“I’ll get you out!” I yell, shoving myself back onto my knees with a much-needed surge of adrenaline. It clears my mind so quickly I no longer care that I’m battered, bruised, and burned.