I scratch at the ice, willing it to shatter and rush the air back into my lungs. I tear at my throat and try to hear the scream, hear anything, but the water takes my voice away. Silence.
I hear only silence. A quiet so deep it forces my eyelids down with a gentle, cool touch, demanding sleep. It makes sense. The quiet, the darkness, my own lullaby singing me into a much needed slumber. It has been so long since I have felt this calm, this peaceful.
Eyes closed I only just register the cool ice, pressed up to my back as if flipping to the cool side of the pillow. At last I breathe in, feel the ice cool my burning throat and I can't imagine why I wanted to leave this solitude. The most comfortable bed in the world now floats me deeper into the dark cold.
All at once, my perfect night is shattered. Warm, sticky air is rushed into my ice lunges, more unwanted lips invading my space. My water is regurgitated back, painting the snow yellow with the wretched cries of "she is breathing" dripping into my subconscious. Too warm blankets are thrown across my bare shoulders. Water like shards of ice forces itself up my throat and I am screaming, clawing the cracks of ice, begging it take me back down to my watery bedroom, for my watery grave to take me back, I don't want to be here.