untitled for now

The deep, never-ending sleep had overtaken her body, dwelling inside of her and laughing at her mistakes. Whether she was dead or alive was not apparent to the naked eye. Her chest never seemed to rise or fall. Up until that moment, she had been oblivious to the world and all that lived there. How she wished she were still in that state of mind.
She woke up wishing she hadn't. It was dark...too dark. She couldn't see a thing. All she could feel was the warm, moist air from her heavy breathing encompassing her face. Otherwise, there was nothing. She could not feel the bruises on her legs, or the cuts on her arms. She felt nothing. Numb. Even her screams seemed to freeze somewhere between her tonsils and her tongue.
But wait! There was a pocketknife in her back pocket! Why hadn't she thought of that sooner? Maybe.... If only.... She scraped the silver edge with her fingertips. There was no time for playing around! She was gambling with death and trying to cheat it. Concentrate. Another grunt. Try, try again.
She heard voices. She couldn't tell what they were talking about or whether they were men or women. She didn't even remember when she'd been taken or why. The voices and thoughts were not audible above her swirling anxieties of "how to get the knife" and "how to get out of here without being noticed".
She got it!
The people heaved and flung her into the mass of blue water. Gasp, gasp, gasping for air. Struggle for breath, struggle for life. Water ran through her nostrils and filled her lungs. Her hands and feet were bound, and she was in a sack sinking to the bottom of the ocean...or lake or.... whatever it was. The impact of the land hurt, but trying to blindly cut away the ropes on her wrists hurt more. She carved at the rope one strand at a time until she got it off.
She dropped the knife and her bloody wrists and hands let the rope free and pulled the gag from her mouth. She then had to grope around for the knife and, once found, began cutting away the brown sack. Furiously, her white hands shook as, slice by slice, it was ripped open. Light from the surface peeked through the bag. Outside. Kicking and slashing away at the water, she made it through her hole in the bag, but it wasn’t over. Her lungs were on fire. She knew they were about to burst as she eyed the surface, pushing and shoving the water below her.
It was then that she gave up. Subconsciously or involuntarily she didn't know. What she did know was that she could not make it. Could not and would not go on. She let go of life and began to slowly sink the way she came.