Calvin hates the ocean. Ever since he was a little boy he always had a fear of water, this fear of drowning, so close yet so far to the surface. He never understood why humanity had ever tried to conquer it in the first place. When glancing out on this blue body of water, he cannot but imagine, the hundreds of thousands, countless lives which the sea has taken, his father included. Yet, some part of Calvin feels drawn to it, like he too belongs there, under the waves, far from humanity, far from the others. Calvin had always wanted to become a photographer, he remembered when his father gave him his first proper camera, he was 13, and took pictures of everything he saw. He began his future career by taking pictures for the school newspaper in highschool in Edinburgh. As he got older, Calvin loved the more creative subjects, art, drama and technology, generally avoiding the more active subjects such as sports. He left school at 17 and worked his way up in journalism, well respected for his creative eye and quick questions, working for The Guardian. One day he was offered a unique experience documenting some activity in the East for the Government. Calvin was told that the job would include accomodation, steady pay and that he would have to stay there for at least 3 years but he was guaranteed a promotion once he returned working as a journalist. Calvin decided to take the job if his father and sister could come along. Within a month they were preparing to leave. Those next years Calvin would document some of the most horrific things a man could ever see, his world came apart and he became seperated from society... He remembered looking down, his father, thrashing inches from the surface, his hands reaching out of the water trying depserately to loosen the iron grip which Calvin held around his throat. Looking down into his fathers bloodshot eyes, the sound of the waves crashing against the shrinking shoreline, the sun beating down, the birds singing up above in the trees, he takes it all in, as his victim begins to weaken. Calvin closes his eyes and took a deep breath, smelling the salt off the sea. "Cal!" a voice cries from somewhere far behind, out of sight, out of mind. A small hand, bloody hand tugs on Calvins shoulder, causing him to wake from his trance. Its nearly dusk. Looking around, he see's the last light of the dying sun, vanish over the Chernarussian mountains. His arms begin to ache, looking to down he realises he is still throttling his long gone father, whose face while slightly distorted by the water, looks purple. Water laps around his waist, the tide has gone in. He releases the body and gets up. Turning around he see's his sister, Louise, sitting by a fire, washing dirt off her hands, near a freshly opened grave. "We did what we had to, didn't we Cal?" she asks as he sits down beside her, still confused at where the day had gone. "Yeah we did what we needed to do Lou." he replied. Calvin didn't feel bad about what happened, he felt good. His father had been there all his life, up until this point, the three of them had been doing fine, a few run ins with the others but all safe and all sound. Calvin knew that his father, who may of seemed happy to anyone else, was truly torn inside. Worried sick over their next meal or afraid that Lou, who is nine, might run a little too far. It was sad to see him like this, so he decided to ease his fathers pain. He remembered how hard and frustrating it was to convince little Louise, three days it took. Sitting by the fire, Cal seemed puzzled, looking through his bag, he found his derringer, the little pistol his father gave him to "use in emergencies" he always said. Sitting there now, he wondered why he didn't just use the pistol on his father, why did it come down to his bare hands? Looking up at Louise, it all fell into place. He remembered why he kept the gun nearby and remembered what he needed it for, he remember why he told her to dig the hole. His hardest job yet. He gazed at Louise for the final time and knew that is was for the best, he knew he wouldn't handle it if she got lost, or hurt, or taken. Getting up on his feet, Calvin raised the pistol to the back of her head, he closed his eyes and began to countdown... 3... 2... 1... One shot echoed out into the distance before the forest fell silent oncemore. One freshly opened grave, was filled in that night.