The fish was elusive. I don’t know why I was chasing it, except to catch it. I still have no idea why I had to catch it, except that it was as important to my body as breath.

I was a better swimmer than I thought. Following it as it shimmered. White like an opal with a lot of shine to it. I’d once heard that opals were considered bad luck. That an opal breaking was worse than breaking ten mirrors. I hoped the fish had nothing to do with superstition.

I could feel my own breath while he was on top of me. My inhale, sharp and devoid of sweetness. I trembled inside to not show my fear. Thirteen is both very old and very young. Dreading my exhale, which brought behind it another inhale. My exhale only signaled to me that another inhale was coming. The next inhale signaled to me that I was still living in this moment. I wanted to die. So I died inside.

Its funny how twenty some odd minutes can change your life. A touch that should be tender used with hate. Memories of that touch annihilating future tenderness from that very same touch.

The nightmares were like a family inside joke. My mother, used to my screaming had once moved her bedroom furniture. My subconscious had already cataloged and listed where things were. So instead of sleepwalking and screaming, turning left. I turned right. Waking up while standing up and having her point this out. We both laughed so hard I was almost glad for the nightmare for its creating this new funny memory.

So how can I replace those twenty odd minutes? Why had I chosen to go away with my friend to upstate New York to visit a family friend? Two teenage girls, giddy about high heels and lip-gloss. We hadn’t played with fire, but we wondered why it was so warm and why we’d been warned so harshly.

I hadn’t even held a matchstick in my hand before that night. The scars from that burn still with me. It is fair to be burned so badly by a fire you didn’t even want to start?

I’m watching the fish shimmer, trying to hide among the rocks. The bright white fish cannot hide amid slate blue and muddy brown rocks. No matter how hard it tries. I’m still moving.

I don’t know what I’m going to do the moment I catch that fish. But I know that every moment spent focused on its pursuit is not a moment I spend in the past.

A larger fish appears, facing me down. Blue and green like beach glass. Its scales like a knight’s armor and its eyes full of wisdom. I know I can catch it. What I don’t know is that I can catch it because I will let me.

I hold it gently in my hands, one at the base of its tail and the other at its fish neck. I keep it underwater so it can breathe. And I watch it breathing in and out. In and out. It does not squirm but I wonder if it is afraid. Does it wonder if these twenty minutes will change its life?

The fish knows better than me. In its eyes I can see the history, the untold answers. My ancestors knowing the truth and standing behind me on judgment day.

The fish says to me. Breathe and you will be free. It pulls me towards shore and lets me stand up. Flipping its tail it is gone as I exhale.