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The water fills your vision. Every where is water except for the large scaled creatures that break through the black expanse.
The water also fills your lungs. Coughing sends bubbles everywhere. Which way is up?
Water is the only sound. Crashing waves, frothing slowness and drowning cries shout one word: water. Tons and tons of water. The pressure squeezes your burning lungs. The salt cuts your swelling tongue. The cold steals your strength, arms and legs becoming leaden.
A foot hits something solid. You kick. Something sharp-rock? scales? teeth? hits your shoulder cutting it wide open. Is that the sky? More water spatters your face. Fresh water though--not salty. Rain? Taking a deep breath you gulp more water with a little air. The sky is the same as the water.
Black, wet and cold.
A wave lifts you into the air only to slam you into the rocky shoal a second later. In its trough you realize you are in shallows, but it is a short glimpse of what might be hope. The next wave crests overhead, rolling you like broken doll, curling you into its embrace.
Water fills your world. Black, wet, cold water.
Wet.
Cold.
Blackness takes you.