{"id":2829,"date":"2016-11-11T16:55:00","date_gmt":"2016-11-11T21:55:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.med.unc.edu\/iris\/iris\/index\/flip\/dive\/"},"modified":"2018-08-03T13:52:28","modified_gmt":"2018-08-03T17:52:28","slug":"dive","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.med.unc.edu\/iris\/index\/flip\/dive\/","title":{"rendered":"Dive"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n

Betsy Price, MS1<\/p>\n

\n

He feels as if he\u2019s been stabbed in the toe a million times, microscopic needles rummaging through his flesh and twisting away at his nerves, when he tests the river\u2019s temperature. Sheets of ice float lazily along with the current\u2014he didn\u2019t know what he expected to feel. A curse leaves his lips but the word lacks conviction, sounding empty and hopeless to his own ears. He hates himself and how easily he has been molded into their plaything. He hates them<\/i>.<\/p>\n

He can\u2019t feel his foot. He\u2019s used to the cold, of course. He lives here<\/i>, after all, and isn\u2019t worth the effort to be kept warm in their eyes. He\u2019s adjusted to the discomfort. Even the thought<\/i> of discomfort is odd to him, because how can one understand the opposite of a concept that\u2019s never been introduced in the first place?<\/p>\n

The woods behind him felt much safer than where he stands now, uncertain, out in the open. He\u2019s so close to freedom he can taste it\u2014as if the scent of the China air drifting towards him on the breeze from across the river is drastically different from his home. The idea seems silly. Air cannot be so different, divided by an invisible wall hovering over this water.<\/p>\n

But it is<\/i>.<\/p>\n

The air across the river doesn\u2019t reek of death and fear and all the things that have been so familiar. Instead, there\u2019s the clean emptiness of hope and opportunity. Tiny wisps of it coil and twist their way to his senses and he feels like he might have a shot at something more, after all. There\u2019s only one thing in his way, in theory, and it\u2019s that freezing water, rushing past him with a sound not unlike the static that plays on the government radio between meaningless announcements\u2014he\u2019s heard it a few times, from the guardhouse where his captors sit idly, uncaring, in luxury with guns at their sides.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s likely he\u2019ll be too cold to swim once he makes the leap.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s possible he\u2019ll be swept away by the often underestimated current, now only intensified by the ice melting. It\u2019s spring, but he\u2019s never known the happiness that comes with the first flower of the season or the satisfaction of a successful spring cleaning. Spring means little to him\u2014only as it relates to the crops he\u2019ll be forced to harvest, but not allowed to consume or profit from.<\/p>\n

There is no profit in his world, but there might be out there<\/i>.<\/p>\n

His eyes lock with longing onto a tree on the other side. There\u2019s nothing unique about the tree, nothing about it that looks any different than the forest of the ones behind him. He\u2019s memorized the forest and all of its paths and secrets, planning this for years. There are stories about the success of others, but he\u2019s never spoken with one who\u2019s been there and back.<\/p>\n

He has, however, watched with a flat expression the public execution of all those who have failed. He\u2019s sure that the number of failures greatly outweighs any success that may or may not exist.<\/p>\n

But he wants something else for himself. He\u2019s too smart, too adventurous, too independent to continue so complacently with his life. He\u2019ll be shot on sight, if he\u2019s seen, but he\u2019ll be a difficult target in the water, at least. There are so many things against him, and only one thing going for him\u2014his hope.<\/p>\n

He is brave, he decides. He dives.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Betsy Price, MS1 He feels as if he\u2019s been stabbed in the toe a million times, microscopic needles rummaging through his flesh and twisting away at his nerves, when he tests the river\u2019s temperature. Sheets of ice float lazily along with the current\u2014he didn\u2019t know what he expected to feel. 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