Drowning under layers

He was drowning under the layers of this world. Dense, sour, cloudy layers of water flowing into his rib cage and filling up his poor lungs. The detective was suffocating under their weight, even though that water was nothing but a mere illusion, a fantasy, an imagination of how the world was treating him. But how had he ended up like this, anyway? The only thing he wanted was to be a detective and to enjoy the indescribable excitement and thrill of solving cases, especially complicated ones. Nothing more. But it apparently wasn't meant to be, since one day, one minute, the world or rather society had decided to stab him with bayonets, as though marking him as useless. It was painful, extremely painful, not only because he was judging himself, but also because he was being judged by others, a feeling of hate that was choking him. But it wasn't his fault, was it? It hadn't been him, who had killed those criminals that had been so inappropriately hiding in the most visible place, right? The water kept flowing deeper, filling his stomach and the rest of his insides. Soon, his eyelids would become heavy, and his brain start to sink into a deep sleep that he would surely never wake up of. How funny. How funny that he actually wasn't afraid of that in the slightest. At least, it was better than to exist as some completely unremarkable and isolated pixel, broken by an unknown programmer, who was working on his project late at night right before the deadline. Everything started to fade. His cloudy and at the same time piercing eyes, that resembled the bottom parts of an iceberg, were drowning in the melting ice that was had been surrounding his soul for five long years. This was his end, the end of an incredibly talented detective, who just couldn't understand why he had been charged, and if it was really him, who had done it, or if he had been lured into a trap. Vague pictures, screams, and joyful and horrific voices entered his ears that had been sealed with thick pieces of ice from others' opinions a long time ago. Why wouldn't they just let him die in peace? Even if it was nothing but a moral death, why couldn't it just proceed quietly, without any unknown disturbing voices? This thought made his eyelids reluctantly open again for some reason. Now, he wasn't floating somewhere deep anymore, but approaching the surface, as if something was pulling him out. His mind started spinning, asking nothing but a single question: "What is going on?". Not even the detective himself had the answer to it, since everything was happening way too fast. His chest, his entire body suddenly felt a lot lighter, as though all the water, that had been dragging him down like lead, had vanished from his body or even from the universe itself. Bright light shone into his eyes, making him squint and focus his gaze. An incredibly warm air surrounded his wet and ice-cold body out of the blue. As if someone was hugging him, offering him their warmth and moving something inside his chest, as though burning it with red-hot iron and immediately cooling it down with ice. Finally, his eyes got used to the light and were gazing at a huge, almost boundless space, bright and warm, as if made from rays on sunlight and sea breeze. Looking down a bit, the detective spotted Toto, who was hugging him so tightly, as if he didn't want to ever let him to, holding him like a guide between the isolating desperation and that eternally warm place, where Ron would always be accepted the way he was. Unconsciously, tears appeared in the corners of the latter's eyes, flowing down his chin quietly and discreetly. Whether they were tears of happiness or not, he couldn't tell, but they did bring him unprecedented relief.  Suddenly, the hug became looser, and he was already about to squeeze his own stiff and tingling arms, but this wasn't necessary, since Toto's bright, shining silver eyes looked directly at him. And then, a warm smile appeared on the officer's already long familiar face, an unparalleled smile, that was so heart- and soul-warming as though it came from inside Ron's body. The latter couldn't help smiling back and putting his arm around that living wonder that had entered his life without any warning and become so familiar as if they had known each other for a lifetime. He loved that wonder and wanted it to always be by his side, not allowing him to sink into that cold again. This was the reason Ron was clinging to Toto like clutching to a much-needed straw. He didn't plan to say it out loud, but the officer would surely figure it out himself, so for now, they were just standing there and smiling at each other, perhaps thinking about something or perhaps not.