She opened her eyes and tried to adjust to the dark. Give it a minute, she thought. If you don’t panic, the light will come. There was always a sliver of light, a crack, however thin, that made it possible to see different shades of black and grey. While waiting for it to appear, she breathed in slowly. She paused before breathing out, but the world around her remained a seamless black.
For a strange, confusing moment, she wondered if she was dead. Was this dark place, wherever it was, the other side? Then she felt a slight, almost imperceptible, movement. It was followed by a shout. A man’s voice. The noise was coming from outside. She remembered where she was and why she was there.
She listened for a sign that the others were alive, for a breath or a moan. She was certain she could smell other bodies and feel their warmth. Perhaps she should say something. But, no, this might be the wrong time. Besides, her mouth was dry as chalk, and she wasn’t sure her voice would work. She was amazed that no one could hear her heart. It was in her throat, her ears, everywhere.
The boat swayed again, the movement more dramatic.
She attempted to move, only there wasn’t enough room. It was cold, and she’d lost the feeling in her legs. Pins and needles ran up and down her arms.
Her breathing was shallow now, and she worried that there wasn’t sufficient air to fill her lungs. Fear wrapped itself around her. They had been warned that the crossing might be rough, but this was the first time she’d realised they might not survive.
Don’t fall asleep, she told herself. If you do, you might not wake again.
What she had to do was keep her mind active. She tried to visualise where she was going, what she would do there, whom she would meet, how her life would improve. She thought of streets, buildings, people.
It was no good. All she could picture was home.