The Mariner

McConnell put his hand upon the monster’s shoulder. “I think it all just ends.”

“You think so?” The Mariner smiled hopefully as tears rolled down his cheek. McConnell returned it, happy to bring the man some spiritual solace.

“Yes,” he said, trying to sound as certain as he could be. “There’s nothing beyond this life, it’s all meaningless.”

Comforted, the Mariner took a deep breath of salty air, treating his lungs one final time.

“What happened here Arthur?” McConnell asked, trying to make sense of it all.

The Mariner turned two red rimmed eyes upon his companion. “The world woke up and looked through my eyes.”

“What did it see?”

“This.”

The Mariner turned and took in hand the rope that harnessed the anchor to the ship.

And with a swipe of a knife, cut it.

No. Choose.

Suddenly, as the anchor plunged down into the water below, the rope tightened around his legs. It bit into his skin, an agonising yank and loud crunch as the leg broke and he was tugged by the loose limb over the edge. Wooden boards flying past, then out into open air.

I know. But you have to.

He plunged into the icy water, legs first, but a blink later it was over his head, rushing into his nose and ears, keen to fill his every being with chill suffocation. The world transformed to one of numbness, yet still he heard the Wasp in its panic.

No. If you want me, take me now. If not, then I’ll be gone and you can take the rest. Or go back to sleep. You won’t need to be afraid any-more, but you must choose.

There must be a reason.

The anchor sank, dragging the Mariner down into the depths. Five feet. Eight feet. His head began to hurt as the pressure worked on him, pressing down upon his chest and head.

Ten.

Fifteen.

I can’t come back. Only you can.

Blood began to bloom from his face, but still the Mariner kept the air clutched in his lungs. He opened his eyes, but the water around him was dark from blood. It didn’t matter, there was no more use for vision.

And suddenly like a light bulb within his head-

“Everything’s gonna be alright.”

She cradled him at the dining table, his head upon her shoulders. Between them his arm stretched out, lined with angry red remnants of the self-harm the night before.

“You should have woken me,” she chided, but with the calm administrations of love and acceptance. “You should always wake me.”

He nodded, “I know. But sometimes I feel so wretched I can’t.”

She reached out and applied a plaster to one of the larger cuts. “It’s ok. I know how you get.”

Wincing slightly from the contact, he felt both ashamed and confused. Why did he get like that? Why did his mind spiral out of control? When they were together, he never felt any of those paranoias that plagued him during the dead of night, so why not wake her?

Because you hate yourself, he thought. Because a long time ago, you were taught you weren’t worth giving air.

“I think you should try that therapist my friend recommended,” she said as she applied the final plaster. “Edgar Shelton or something, the one based in London? He’s good with complex cases. I’ll tell you what, you make the appointment and I’ll come with you, have a coffee while you go in, then we’ll get some lunch when you’re done.”

Despite being exhausted from countless treatments in the past, he agreed. Anything to stop hurting his wife over and over again.

She smiled, the act beautiful upon her sad face.

“Everything’s gonna be alright.”

And in that moment, he knew she was right. He would go to this therapist and get fixed. And then, free from demons, he could finally be the husband this angel deserved. This woman with boundless strength who kept him afloat, even when he tried to force himself to sink.

Life wasn’t all bad. His self-hatred ran deep, but there was more to him than that. Much more, and when they kissed she banished all those thoughts away, the graze of her lips infinitely more powerful than any pill could ever be. She was more than his wife. She was his sanity.

She held him tight, and without hesitation he held her in return; two soul-mates lamenting the flaws in humanity, determined to overcome them together.

“Without you,” he whispered in her ear. “I’d be lost, and I’d never find myself again.”

She pulled away and looked him in the eye, and in that moment dismissed his fears, neurosis and paranoia. The demons retreated to somewhere down in his psyche, where not even he could knowingly reach, a place where a suffocating boy was forever trapped.

“I love you.”

He smiled, knowing it was true. “I love you too, Grace.”

In the depths of the ocean, as the weight of the whole sea bared down on him, the Mariner released the air in his lungs. He wasn’t screaming. Nor was it a reflex of the immense pain and strain that ruptured his internal organs.

He was laughing.