Left arm over.
Right arm over.
Breathe.

The long strokes cut through the cool green ocean and formed a steady rythmn which became almost a pulse in Aaron’s brain. Everything became immediate – the water was cold, his lungs ached, and he could sense that his brother was somewhere to the side, almost imperceptible to his periodic peripheral vision.

He could hear the bell on the channel marker, and it made him swim faster. He knew that he would be hurting, and he knew that it would take all that he had to swim all the way back to shore. But it had become about winning, about proving.

Perhaps Aaron needed so badly to win because he felt as though he had so much to prove.

Breathe.
Stroke.
Stroke.
Breathe.

And suddenly his brother was no longer beside him. Afraid to stop – to lose – Aaron continued to stoke, albeit more slowly. His eyes darted around nervously inside his goggles. All he could see was green.

There was a massive floundering commotion somewhere of to his left. And then nothing.