Deep Waters

CW: Substance abuse, physical violence, mental health.

The 23 year old man climbed onto the boat, his hands soaked in blood. His hair was spiked, his once muscular body was shrunken and frail from the drugs that coursed through his veins. His tattooed arms scratched up from a previous altercation. His blue eyes crazed and desperate. The passengers looked at him, eyes widened with fear. A scream echoed across the empty lake. The woman put her hand to her mouth as she realized the scream came from her. He covered his ears, blood soaked his cheeks, he frantically searched for an escape.

Where could he go? He was on a boat in the middle of the Tennessee river. He realized he had two options. The first option was to try to convince the passengers on the boat that he wasn't a threat and see if they would take him to shore. He looked down at his hands, and back at the group of people staring with horror back at him. He decided the second option was now the only option. No way would these people think that he was harmless.

He stood up on the deck of the boat and looked down. He held his breath and jumped in. As he hit the water he heard a man's voice yelling. He didn't care. He had to get away from them and back to shore. He knew the couple he had tried to carjack would have filed a report by now. He couldn't go back to jail. He wasn't going back to jail. He swam as fast as he could. His arms and legs growing tired, he decided to rest for a second in the middle of the river.

A boat raced towards him. Anticipation rippled through him. A flicker of hope sparked in the depths of his heart. He would be rescued. As the boat neared closer to him, his heart sank. His rescuers were a police boat. He tried to swim away as they pulled up next to him. He was exhausted. His legs and arms were weak, but he would risk swimming back to shore before he climbed on a boat with a bunch of police.

"Son, put this on," the older officer said. He held a life jacket in his right hand, and a bullhorn in his right.

"No," he said. He kept swimming.

"Sir, let us help you. You're going to drown," the younger officer said. He slowed the boat to a stop.

"No, I'm fine." He kept paddling.

Suddenly, his legs cramped up and he couldn't swim anymore. His arms weak from swimming, he stopped and let the current take him under. He knew he was about to die. He thought of his mom and his family. He wondered how his life had gotten so far off track. What would happen to him after death engulfed him.

He felt the tug of someone in the water pulling him to the surface. Seconds later, he was being hauled onto the police boat. His lungs burned as air filled them. He was alive. The younger officer had rescued him. Instead of thanking him, he began to fight him as they sped down the river and back to their cop car to escort him to the jail. He entered the jail and was escorted to a cell. A booking officer came and escorted him to the bathroom. He put him in a turtle suit as the man became violent toward the officer. The officer locked him in the cell by himself. As he sat there, he wondered what would happen. He hadn't been out of prison long, and he was already back in jail. The officer walked by and looked in the cell.

"Can you tell me my charges please?" he asked.

"Yeah, I will write them down," the officer said.

When the officer came back, he had a grin on his face.

"What?" he asked.

The officer burst out laughing.

"Dude, it says here you tried to steal a boat?! The officer's face reddened.

"What, no I didn't."

"Well that's what it says. One count attempted carjacking, two count aggravated burglary of a boat, one count evading and resisting arrest, and one count assault on an officer.

He stared at the officer, and realized that this time, he may never get out of jail.

Chapter 2

At 4am, the cell door opened again.

"Rogers, get up," a female officer said.

"What? What time is it?"

"Breakfast," she said. She turned to grab his tray, and hand it to him.

He sat up and pulled the tray over to him. He was starving. He hadn't eaten in a few days. As the officer went to close the door, a thought crossed his mind.

"Hey wait," he said.

She turned to face him.

"When can I get my clothes back?"

"When you see the mental health provider, she said.

"Okay when will that be? It's cold in here."

"Whenever they get time," she said. She shrugged her shoulders.

"Oh, okay."

She turned around and walked out of the cell. The door shut with a loud thud behind her. He sighed and went leaned on his side to eat his food. He hated jail food, he had eaten enough of it to last him a lifetime. He finished his meal, and grabbed the cup the officer had left on the tiny bench in his cell. The sink connected to the toilet in the cell and he tried not to think about the fact he was bascially drinking toilet water. He chugged the first cup of water, and the second. He hadn't realized how dehydrated he was. He sat on the floor when he was done, and looked out the tiny cell door window. He wondered what would happen and if they would lock him up and throw away the key. He never imagined who waited for him in the cellblock building that would become his home for the next two years.

This story is a true story of one man's journey through drugs, prison, and how a near death experience of drowning led Him to the King of Kings and how God rescued him from the deep waters of despair.