The cold water encases me. I can see the light dancing on the surface. Half of the boat is submerged under the ocean’s water. I can see where I was standing only minutes ago. I knew there were too many of us on the ferry; something bad was bound to happen. I reach my hand up towards the surface, kicking with all my strength. Will this be the last thing I see? My eyes sting from repressed tears that will never be shed. Will anyone care or remember me? My parents died years ago and I haven’t spoken with my brother or sister in months. I once heard that it is not death that humans fear, but the memory of their life fading into oblivion.  My life, which I have fought to keep, will end because someone was trying to get around the rules and cut corners. I see other passengers flailing, in futile effort to get to the surface. My lungs ache, like a giant is sitting on them. My focus starts to go, my eyesight going in and out. This is it. My lungs scream at me, but I try to focus on the slow beat of my heart. I make my mind go black. I inhale, water fills my lungs, as I start to sink farther and farther down into the river. My eyesight goes fuzzy around the edges. Black circles my vision pushing inwards; I feel my heart slow to just a few beats per minute. My eyes fade into complete darkness, the only thing I feel is my heart slowly stopping. This is it.
****
         “Marco,” a rough hand shakes my sleeping body. I peel open my eyelids, sunlight stinging my irises.
         “Marco,” the voice persists, “You have to get up, we are going to be late.” I swat away the hand and pull the covers over my head, praying that sleep will take me again. I hear footsteps padding across the floor than a door slamming. I let out a rush of breath, opening my eyes once more. It’s dark and hot underneath the covers. My white cotton t-shirt sticks to my chest and back, making me wonder why I’m even bother wearing one. I throw back the covers and breathe the cooler air. My dark brown hair is a mess, but I don’t have time to take a shower. I place my feet on the cold tile floor and rush towards my dresser.
         “Clean enough,” I say, glancing down at a WAR graphic tee. I slip into my favorite pair of worn jeans and slam my feet into a pair of converses.  I run into the kitchen; Lorenzo is sitting at the counter looking very unhappy, most likely because of me.
         “Enzo, chill. I’m ready aren’t I?” I say, glancing at Enzo from the other side of the island. Enzo scoffs at me and reaches for his car keys on the counter, already heading to the door.
         “Dude, I need to eat something,” I say, opening the fridge, perusing the options.
         “You can eat something when we get there,” Enzo calls out from the hallway, probably already pushing the elevator button.
         “Ugh,” I groan inwardly, “Why did my roommate have to be so time oriented,” The front door slams behind me, I clench an apple between my teeth.
         The elevator door dings open, Enzo stamps his foot impatiently glaring at his wrist watch. I shrug on my jacket, the apple still clenched in my jaw. Enzo’s almost black hair is pulled back into a messy bun; the color of it is a stark contrast to his pale skin and green eyes. His eyes dance with his simmering rage; he chews on his chapped lips.      
A young woman steps aside to let us enter the elevator. Her blonde hair is chopped into a short bob, that brushes softly against her pointed chin. Her smile eludes to her happiness, but dark storm clouds brew behind her grey eyes.
Enzo slams his finger into the L button and states angrily at the ground, muttering under his breath. I shrug and continue to enjoy my 'breakfast'. The doors shutter closed and the elevator lurches downwards. 
The young woman backs herself into the corner, to get as far away as possible for us. She holds her purse tight to her chest and hums softly to herself. She closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath, letting it out with a shutter. Her fingers tap rhythmically on her faux leather bag. 1,2, 3… 1,2,3… repeated again and again. Her other hand snakes up to her lips and she begins to pick a her lips. She sucks her lower lip in between her teeth and bites down. Repeating this until there is a bubble of blood on her pink lips. She wipes the back of her hand across her face, breathing deeply again. Her foot taps rapidly on the floor. She glances up to check the descent of the old elevator. 
The elevator comes to a sudden stop. The woman inhales sharply, her heart hammering behind her ribcage. The doors slowly creaks open, the woman pushes past us to get off of the elevator. I wait for Enzo before exiting. His brown leather shoes slap against the tile floor of the building's lobby. I keep my eyes downward, only looking up to throw the apple in the garbage. The doorman nods at me as I pass by.
Enzo pulls his hair out of its tie and runs his hand through the inky black mess. His loose shirt falls away from his forearm, exposing three thin bands of navy blue ink.
“Enzo. Come on,” I complain, to the back of his head, “We won’t even be that late.”
“That is not the point, Marco,” Enzo retortes, he shakes the keys in his hand glancing around trying to remember where he parked the car.  Enzo hits the unlock button on the keys and the lights of a silver sedan flash.
“Then what is the point?” I ask, reaching of the handle to the passenger side door.
“You know what Marco, just shut up,” Enzo says heatedly. He yanks up the driver’s side door and hops into the car, slamming the door behind him. Enzo shoves the keys into the ignition and roughly turns the car on. The car starts with a shutter. He pulls the car out of the parking lot and merges onto the busy street. We drive in silence. I’m tempted to turn on the radio, but think better of it when I see the barely suppressed rage simmering behind Enzo’s eyes.
I hate silence, the absences of sound. My ears ring with thoughts unsaid and questions that I burn to ask. In the quiet times my mind refuses to sit in the silence, instead it takes over the silence filling every crevice and crack of emptiness it can.  My mind wanders never resting on a single thought.
      "I see. The silent treatment," I whine, looking over at Enzo in the drivers seat. Enzo drums his fingers to non existent music and keeps his eyes focused ahead.
"Fine. Cool. Whatever," I say, patting my hands against my thighs, creating any sound to distract from the silence.
I reach for the radio and tune it to my favorite station. Music floods the otherwise silent car. My ears take in the music, glad to be rid of the unbearable nothingness. Enzo opens his mouth to speak, but closes it just as fast. 
“It’s not like we’re going to miss it or anything,” I say.
“Marco,” Enzo says in a warning tone.
“What?!” I exclaim, “All I want is for you to realize that the world is not going to end if we are a little late.”
“I know you don’t understand the concept of time management, but I have an appointment I have to make on the mainland,”Enzo says, staring at the road. The ocean comes into view, peaking it blue and green waves over the horizon line. People are boarding the ferry in a slow fashion, no one in any rush. A man tries to soothe the crying child in his arms, rubbing the baby’s back. A woman re-adjusts her heavy bag on her shoulder, making her back hunch.
“Marco!” a female voice shouts, as Enzo and I get out of the car. A woman with long brown dreadlocks and gray eyes, hurries over to us. The  heels of her boots click against the cement. She throws her arms around me the second we’re in arms length reach. Her perfume engulfs me in a cloud of jasmine and lilac. She wraps her arms tightly around my neck, and I rest my hands on her low back. She plants a quick kiss on my lips and unwinds her arms from me.
“How are you?!” she says, holding my forearms in her thin fingers.
“He’s good,” Enzo says, pulling at the back of my shirt, “But we really have to get moving.”
“Chill out,” I say, swatting his hand away. I look at the beautiful young woman, trying to remember what her name is. Rose, Rebecca, Rachel… no none of those are right. I look behind me and catch Enzo’s eye.
“Sorry, but we really have to go,” Enzo says, understanding the message I was trying to convey. The young woman let go of my arm and waved to us as we walked towards the boarding line. Enzo hip checked me, causing me to stumble.
“What the hell was that for?!” I shout, rubbing my hip.
“It was for you not knowing that girl’s name. The girl that ran up to you shouting your name and kissed you,” Enzo said, disappointedly
“So what? Why does it matter that I didn’t know her name?” I say, genuinely confused.  
“Marco, I’m going to be frank with you. You are approaching thirty and you have never had a serious relationship, just a string of broken hearts. Is that really how you want to be remembered? As a player and a jerk?”
“You know what Enzo, I’m not really in the mood for a lecture,” I say, walking towards the ferry. I pull my jacket tighter around my body and tuck my chin into the collar of my coat. I close my eyes as I continue to walk forward. A wave of somberness washes over me tugging me towards sadness. I scrap my fingers across my 5-o’clock shadow, the hair spiky against the pads of my fingers. I step in line behind an elderly lady with wispy gray hair. I stare at the back of her head, counting the grey hairs on her head. I step onto the ferry, my shoes smack against the metal of the ferry deck.
“Stairs to the left and right, there is seating on the upper and lower decks. Restrooms are located in the lower cabin,” a man says, as he ushers people onto the ferry. I take to stairs two at a time and move to the front of the boat. I always loved watching the waves crash against the hull of the boat, and catching the drops of seawater on my face. I take up residence at the front of the boat and toss my arms over the railing, leaning in to it. The boat fills up with chattering and noisy people. The ferry’s engine roars to life and the boat lurches forward. The ferry pulls out of the harbor with a purr of the engine. The boats in the harbor begin to fade, until they look like toys.
I relax into the railing and gaze out onto the ocean. The boat shutters and somewhere deep inside something lets out a groan, the screech of metal on metal is audible over the distressed cries of passengers. My body pitches forward as the ferry slams to a halt. The loudspeaker comes on, spouting words of reassurance, the voice is low and grovely. No one pays attention to it as the water laps at their ankles. The water creeps up my calves and soon reaches my waist. I hear the screams of people struggling to keep their heads above the water as the boat pulls them down.        
I let the water pull me downwards into its icy embrace, my fingers go numb with cold. The pressure of the water overwhelms my senses, my ears pop in protest. I drift farther into the dark abyss of the ocean. I watch the light play on the surface of the water and I kick with all my might and will to see that sun again. My eyelids droop in exhaustion. All I can feel is my heartbeat slowing. One thought surfaces above the numbness... Is this really it?
****
All the bodies were never found, some were lost to the ocean forever. There was no closure for some loved ones. Enzo never forgave himself for that day. He blamed himself for Marco’s death. He beat himself up every night for the last words he said to Marco. He wished every moment that it was him and not his best friend who had died that day. One hundred people lost to the deep abyss, never to see the sun again.