As she stood there, I began to speak, just letting it all slip out. Not a single detail did I miss. The day had dawned, clear as always and I crept out of her cottage. I was not meant to though, she, she was the one who threatened the asylum. That day she did not come, the last time she had come was two days ago. I did not dare to take anything from the cottage, or leave any dirty stains, for she, she . . . those eyes.
That morning was sparkling, the sea was clear and you could just see a few distant clouds. I can still remember the day of our meeting; it was exactly like the day she, the day she died. We met here, as she had arranged, I felt so young and excited, she said that she was going to tell me something, something which nobody knew.
She had that glint in her eye; I knew what she wanted then. We shared so much in that cottage, back when we were both so young.
Rebecca with her brown curls which bounced when you came to greet her and those flickering eyes, I was afraid of her alright, everybody was, but she said I was special, I was hers. That was until . . . she decided that it was over, but I am reminded of her, especially on days like today. It was all too soon.
Her boat sat there that day, unmoving and only rising with the tide. I walked towards the other bay in search of shells, but found nothing. I remember that day, every moment of it, something was going to happen, and she didn't know, I know because she laughed, like you never hear a person laugh,