Icy water fills my nose and forces its way into my lungs. I throw myself onto my stomach, desperate for a pocket of air that doesn't burn, but instead, I'm met with a pool that's formed inside the raft.
The only lights are brief flashes of electricity shooting from the clouds. No beams indicating that a search is underway. The ship is gone. I'm alone, without a hope of rescue.
The weight of the water and my body pulls the raft downward. Returning water to the sea is fruitless. Rain and waves fill the small space between the thin plastic walls faster than I can hope to scoop it overboard. My feeble fight against gravity is a battle I'll never win.
Soon, the raft will sink beneath the surface, taking me with it. Or, perhaps a wave will push me down into the depths. Maybe a bolt of lightning will find me. I think I'd prefer lightning. One quick, sharp pain is certainly less agonizing than drowning in the cold sea.
I cling to the rope handles when the wave sucks me upwards. Water pours from the bottom of the raft as it climbs the wall of water. The raft tilts, and I know I've reached the point of no return. This wave I cannot ride out. This will be the wave that kills me.
The raft chases me through the salty air. A gust of air untangles the ropes from my ankle, and the only item keeping me alive is gone. Then, my body collides with the ocean.
Air leaves my lungs. And I'm still.