Prologue

My head hit the bottom of the pool and I heard an excruciatingly loud crack. Whether it was my neck snapping or my head hitting the concrete floor, I’m not really sure. I just remember that sound above all else in that moment. My eyes were open underwater, but I couldn’t process what was happening. I simply floated, suspended in time. In those few seconds I didn’t see a flash before my eyes. I didn’t see a rush of memories. I felt frozen, as if someone had hit a pause button. I couldn’t figure out anything. That crack was the only thing I heard.

When you’re underwater it’s usually so quiet and peaceful. But this moment didn’t feel peaceful—it simply felt stuck. I felt no panic or even fear. No gasping for air and taking in water. Just my frozen mind. My body froze, too. I knew I was in water, but I couldn’t feel the wetness of it; that was the strangest thing. My mind—knowing I was immersed—and my body weren’t syncing up. I couldn’t feel anything. I was just floating, still and nearly lifeless, toward the surface.

I had no idea when I crawled out of bed that morning that it would be the last time I’d be able to do it on my own, without help from another person. My world was about to change, as was that of my fiancé and parents.

There was another life that would unexpectedly be robbed of its joy, its ability to laugh, and it would be rocked to the core, maybe more so than mine.