[Read in the style of a Journal. The wounds STILL fresh and is quick to anger. Some lines can be read with annoyance and anger should you feel like that would be the correct reading.]

Into the Darkness

Written by Matthew R. Wright 

Read by [Your Name Here]

10:00PM. 10 degrees Celsius. 

Wetsuit. Regulator. Mask. BCD.   

2 miles from the shoreline. 25 minutes a mile. 2 hours there and back. 

I entered the water from a nearby beach. Must be alone. Must not be seen. 

Result-driven. Consequences be damned. I swam towards the direction of the boat. Towards them.   

Just another example of my dedication. I DO NOT HAVE TO DO THIS. Just want to prove a point.   

Night provided the darkness. Waves provided the cover. I hide beneath them. 

I moved forward. Stroke by stroke. Closer. Closer. The ocean is calm. But I was not. 

The week’s events looped in my mind without interruption:  

- Hardwork never recognised.  

- Overlooked for nepotism.  

- Pruned by management. Long-term but "low-level". 

- Gone so as to "cut costs” Boss says. 

- I told Boss he could go “cut" his wrists.

I reached the boat in under an hour. Really pushed it. 

I then waited. I listened.

His family slept. Silently. Ignorantly.

It was time.

I moved onto the deck. Through to the cabins. Slowly. Silently. Step - by - step.

I barely moving. barely breathed.

I found the youngest, who slept alone. 

I entered his room. Found want I wanted. I ignored the others. 

The boy was 9. A deep sleeper. I gently lifted him. Kept the covers. Kept in the heat.

The outside deck was cool. There's a gentle breeze. 

The Boy remained asleep. I checked my mask. Still tight. 

I slipped under the waves. Into the darkness. 

The cold jerked him awake. Eyes wide open. He tried to move. Trapped inside my grip. 

30 seconds.   

Fully submerged. No chance to gain breath. 

He struggled. He stroked. He kicked. He fought. 

I remained still. I remained focused.

60 seconds.

We sunk further from the surface. 

No light to see. No family to help.

His cried, and released the last of his air.

I hummed a gentle tune. To steady myself. 

90 seconds. 

His stroked speed decreases. Unconscious. Respiratory arrest.

He stopped moving in my arms. I let go. Released him to the waves. 

No chance of revival.

120 seconds.

The boy remained in-place. Rested still, beneath the surface.

My point, has been made.

I turned and faced the shore. My job complete.

A hour or so to return to land. 

"No time like the present" I remember I thought. 

Un-phased by what I had done. 

He took my potential. 

My future. So I took his son’s.