"No, no. I can do this. " these words are said every day in the cold, hospital room. Yet, it's even colder for this girl's shoes.

The girl who drowned a thousand times, but only lost her legs once out of the thousand. She clings to the grass near the brook everyday, pulling herself up and inch with every passing night. It's cold down here, she thinks to herself on the nine hundred and seventy-third night. Her fingers dig into the skin of the ground, quickly heaving herself up onto the sweaty terra firma.

She hears the splash of water twist in the night air, transmitting off the trees, and finally reaching her ears. Someone else is out there as well.

Her blue, morning sky eyes peer into the grunge blue. The girl makes out a figure, out in the creek, a boy. He comes up to the surface, gasping for air, but his lungs collapse with every movement. Suddenly, he isn't too far from her. If she can reach out to him, she's sure she'll be able to pull him out of the weary embrace.

So the blonde female extends her arm, a warm smile stitched onto her pale face, "Come, friend. Hold on," she says. And with that the boys hand grips that of hers, and he's suddenly sitting on the cool grass.

But the deal is not closed. The creek cannot stay empty.

When only a second has passed, the creek latches onto the girl, dragging her back to the pitiful darkness.

The boy lets out a scream of terror, watching his friend and significant other drown before him.

-because it's a long way down to the bottom of the brook.