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She said, 'No.' I said, 'Okay.'

She came in gunning for fishes in the sea staring at a dead watch while a crowd of salty marauders looked on. They were all cheering for her success. And this one guy stood with these people. He looked on, chewing on to his fingernails, dancing hard and deep in his own reveries. The lady drops her watch and dives deeper down into the abyss. Everyone yells her name over and over and over again even though she hears not a single word coming out of their mouths. She presses on, he sees her clearly from above; they both knew the risks involved.

He senses something unusual in the distance. A disturbance, a wave, ripples to her direction disrupting all forms of attempt to reach the destination. A hammerhead and its laser-light eyes sparkle within the dark, blue waters rushing ever faster to her location. She learns of the disruption and swims hastily downwards taking more of her breath and air than necessary.

When she could no longer seem to evade the terror that lurks behind her, she drew a last gasp of breath, drawing in bits of liquid into her diminishing lifestream. But recognising the inevitability of her demise, she eventually slows down. The hammerhead draws closer, its sights locked into her spine, and senses the victory it so wrongfully deserves. The people react with gasps and silences as they looked on from above. Her death would mean so little and so big.

She closes her eyes and hard-grasps the watch enduring the fate she faces. And moments later she gives one last thought about the people she disappointed, the same group of marauders that cheered for her name some seconds ago. Neither of them finding the will nor the determination to salvage whatever hope remains for this helpless lass that sees death as natural selection.

These sadism-holics, these masochism-phobics.

Ten seconds past and nothing. Whatever this predator intends, it delays. To savour the moment? Improbable chance. She opens half an eye. The waves seem to decrease in force. The hammerhead is ahead of her instead of behind, swimming towards an opening in the reef, minding its own damned business. The colour of her sight  changes from sky photon to dark grape. The taste is exquisite and heavy. She pushes back up for air.

The roars of the marauders deafen mother earth. She was safe, for the moment.

She turns to the crowd, glancing from left to right. Nothing. Her eyebrows crumple into frustration and still nothing. Her respirations increase, her blood beating warmly to her chest, her teeth gnashing as if thawed ice. The man she is searching for is gone.

The woman dives right back into the water and into the maroon-like area where she left. She finds a severed hand still bleeding being dragged by the undulation. Her disbelief materialises into solid as she grabs the hand and discovers it missing some of its nails.

These entertainment-holics, these boredom-phobics.

She sets the hand aside together with the watch as she swims ever so deeper that the persons watching from above could no longer see her. The final bubbles of her breath comes to a stop. The people cheered none the louder. She would never be seen again.

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