I kicked harder, water blurring my vision. I caught the edge of the passenger-side window. A partially open window. Anna thrashed against her seat, and my heart seized. Her hand was taped to the door handle.

The hatchback settled on the bottom of the lake, and I grappled with the door, finally getting it open. I tore at the tape but wasn’t having any luck. My lungs burned, and I looked at Anna. She shook her head, pointing up. She wanted me to leave her? Wasn’t going to happen. But I did need more air.

I kicked my way to the surface, sucked in a few deep breaths, and then dove again. It was less than a minute. Sixty seconds. As I swam, I pulled my keys out of my pocket, but when I reached Anna, she wasn’t moving.

I didn’t let myself think about her still body, the water invading her lungs. I sawed at the duct tape with my sharpest key. One layer. Then another. The metal cut into my fingers, but I didn’t think about it. Once the final layer started to give way, I pulled. Bracing my feet against the car, I tugged with every ounce of my fading strength.

It gave way. I hooked my arm around Anna’s body and maneuvered her from the vehicle. I kicked as hard as I could towards the surface. Everything burned, but I only pushed myself harder. As I broke the surface, I sucked in air. The breath hurt, but not nearly as much as not knowing if Anna was okay.

I swam to the lake’s edge and dragged her onto the shore. I collapsed next to her, rolling over to check if she was breathing. Nothing. My hand shook as I felt for a pulse. There was no telltale fluttering against my fingertips.

I got to my knees and tipped Anna’s head back. I centered my hands and began compressions. I counted to thirty and then breathed into her mouth twice. Nothing. I continued the pattern as sirens sounded in the distance.

“Don’t do this to me, Anna.” My voice didn’t even sound like my own. “Breathe.”

Shouts sounded, but I didn’t move from my task.

“Step back, sir. Let us help her.”

But I couldn’t. “She’s not breathing. I have to breathe for her.”

A CPR mask covered her face. “We’ve got this.”

Someone pulled me back. I struggled against the hold, but Walker’s voice cut through the roaring in my ears. “They can help. Let them.”

EMTs surrounded Anna. Her body looked so small. Then, I could no longer see most of her. Only her feet. She didn’t have shoes on. When had she lost them? In the water? Before? I needed to get her socks. A blanket. She was probably cold.

“We need to move. Now!” an EMT shouted.