It was bad times, it was the worst of times. The moon threw a silvery streak across the water as I waded into the waves. The gentle lapping of the ocean across the soft white sands had long been my companion since birth. Five years had passed since we first met, I could still remember her warmth and beauty as we lay on the sand facing the starry sky. And then three years ago, how could I forget the day my breath almost stilled. She'd fooled me and they'd both been planning it all the time. My mind was still writhing in disbelief as I watched helplessly when she scuttled my yatch while I lay tied to the mast. It had taken me a year to recover form the trauma, lucky the local guard caught the auto distress signal. And now two years after it all, I was back at the same spot looking out at the ominous night, when she came. She came to tell me she was sorry. I listened patiently as she explained that he'd beaten her and left her stranded in the jungles of Kaluhamman just a few months later. She was sorry, sorry she'd ever done me worng, sorry for all the pain, tears flowing down her cheeks, she was heaving and frail as she bent on her knees asking for forgiveness. As the anger in me subsided, I mumbled a silent prayer looking out into the water as her body washed away, pools of blood around my feet. As I held the stained Swiss knife in my hand, I wondered why I felt a sudden calm wash over me as I plunged it into myself, falling into the waters heavily as my internal organs tainted with salt water and started to collapse. I could see the stars fading in the distance as I lay in the water waiting to pass away into the night, there would be no local guard tonight, it was all over, it was the darkest of times.