She sank slowly, gracefully, legs bent, arms out, letting the water pull her down. Underwater, everyone was graceful.

How did one actually sink gracefully? she wondered idly. The cool water surrounded her, caressed her as she slipped further into it.

Down here, she thought, everything was so peaceful. So serene. No one to disturb her. No one to interrupt her with the never ending demand for her time, attention. Just her and the water. Where were the fish? She wondered. There should be fish underwater. Maybe she’d see a great white swim by. That would be impressive. She’d have to tell Dad.

Dad. Dad was gone, she remembered. Just like that, a life ended with no warning, no time to prepare. A random act of violence had taken the man she depended on most. Did having time to prepare really help? She wondered. Would she ever be able to let go of her father?

First he had left her, now Dad. Not that Dad really had a choice in the matter. But he had.

She exhaled as she drifted further down, her eyes closed so as to not see the air bubbles. She could feel her white nightgown flowing around her, her long hair drifting out behind her, like a mermaid. She was no mermaid though, she knew.

So much had happened recently. So many events, so many people. There was the funeral to attend as well. Would he come? Would he be there to show her support, or at least pretend? There would be lots of people, she knew. Her father was loved and respected by so many. The mourners would come from all over.

There was a light source, she thought, slowly opening her eyes. The water didn’t sting though, and her vision was crystal clear.

There was the familiar chandelier to her side, in all its crystal glory. Below her was the rest of the room. In front of her was a large, ornate mirror, with a decorative table and a statue of a woman.

She stared at herself in the mirror. Down here she was nobody, she could just be. Just sink to the bottom. She watched, her body suspended in the water, her hair flowing around her. She needed some seashells and a tail, she thought with a smile.

Beneath was the white carpet. To the side, through the double-door wide doorway was the window with its shutters closed. There was light behind there, she realized. Should she go to it? Comfort and warmth ebbed from the soft light. And there were chairs, she noticed. Comfy looking chairs. Maybe she’d sit a spell and relax.

Relaxing was good. She didn’t relax enough these days. How could she, when everyone needed her to be their strength.

There was an overstuffed white chair and ottoman just behind her; she stared at it through the mirror. A table with a tea set, sitting in front of a tall window covered with a filmy curtain, also white.

White. Too much white, she thought. Everything here was white. Her nightgown, the furniture, the light. The light above her was white too. What was it about white light? Go towards the light. Yes, towards the white light. White was good. White was safe. Protective. Healing.

But how was she to heal the pain of losing her father? A room full of white wasn’t going to help with that.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror. She looked so young, so small and helpless. Dad was always there to help her. She was lost, she realized. She could hear him calling her, calling to her. If she went towards the light, maybe she’d find him. He was gone now, wasn’t he? Yes, gone. Beyond her reach.

But he was calling, and she wanted to answer. She wanted to find him. She needed to find him. She needed to say good bye. Why hadn’t she good bye? Had she even talked to him that day? When had she last spoken to him? She couldn’t remember. It was a blur. It was up there, past the rippling water, in the cacophony of noise and people.

But down here, she could escape them. There was no one here but her and the her in the mirror. The her in the mirror that kept changing. Sometimes she was small and young, sometimes she was strong and in her teens, sometimes she was old, with her hair gone gray, but still floating behind her. Always in her white nightgown. Why was her nightgown white? To match the room, she thought. All the pretty white everywhere. Classic, timeless, white. Purity, wholesome, good. All the things white represented.

But what about the nothingness? Sure there was black for nothingness, but to see all the white, be surrounded by all the white...and the white light. It was beckoning to her again, but she remained; didn’t move. She could hear her father calling her.

She remained suspended, surrounded by the white.

***
Author Notes
- A huge thank you to Ronda, my lovely editor who did a super fast edit for me.
- This was written for photo #4 of the CWE 3: A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words Challenge. Thank you to the CWE team for coming up with this fun challenge!
- The identity of this female won't be revealed for a long while. But it is foreshadowing. And while it may seem obvious as to who it is...it's not her. Keep in mind that pretty much every adult male has at least one daughter, and it may not be one of the younger generation..
- Word Count 846

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